


The Glass Axe of the Gryphon

by Arika_Ito



Series: Glass Axe [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Complete, F/M, Gen, Multi, Slow Burn, all the characters get focus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:15:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 314,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23308990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arika_Ito/pseuds/Arika_Ito
Summary: A gryphon is a legendary creature, usually portrayed with the head, talons, wings of an eagle, and the body of a lion.Edelgard goes to Faerghus and stays there.Weekly update, planned for every Monday
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Edelgard von Hresvelg
Series: Glass Axe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960393
Comments: 441
Kudos: 383





	1. Part I Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a work in progress. If anyone has any ideas, I'm open to them. Please send help.
> 
> This was part of the NaNoWriMo 2019 project where I finished the 50,000 words but not my story. It's four parts. I've got the first part all typed up and edited and the second part is a work in progress. We'll see how this goes.

**(9 days since the Insurrection)**

The day that El enters his life is one of the best days of his life. This is also where his life changes forever. His stepmother, Patricia, has been pacing all week ever since word of the Insurrection of the Seven reached Faerghus. Dimitri swears there has been a groove worn into the floor from all the pacing.

With the news of the Insurrection, the Royal Family moved to a secret location only those closest to the king knew. But a man with long brown hair gallops into the courtyard of the castle where they are staying. He carries a young girl slumbering in his arms. Dimitri’s never seen this man before and he shouldn’t have known where they were. He hides behind his father, who stands, imposingly, watching the man from the window open to the courtyard.

“Volkhard!” His stepmother cries as he dismounts, the young girl dozing peacefully in his arms. Her dainty features almost remind him of an elf as she is tucked into his elbow.

Breathing hard, Volkhard greets her with a grim smile, “Patricia.” Dimitri notes that they have the same light purple eyes that dance when his stepmother tells him bedtime stories.

“Is that her?” Patricia asks, staring at the small girl in his arms. There’s a desperation and hunger in them that he hasn’t seen on anyone before. Volkhard nods mutely, lips pale and tight, still carrying the young girl. His stepmother almost reaches for her until...

“Uncle?” The girl murmurs, stirring slightly, the same light purple eyes blinking tiredly, fluttering only for a moment before she drifts back to sleep.

“Lambert!” His stepmother calls for his father. “They’re here!” Her face is frantic with both joy and fear as she reaches a hand for the young girl.

“How long was the journey?” His father asks as he enters the courtyard, Dimitri stays close behind. His father reaches for the other man’s hand, shaking it. Despite the weariness showing on the man’s face, he bows to his father, deep and low.

“5 days since we crossed the border.” Volkhard shakes his head. “The audacity of it all, we barely made it.” He keeps a firm grip on the girl, cradling her head. He keeps her close.

“What of the other children?” His stepmother asks quickly, stepping inside the room with them. She looks at the girl, her eyes never leaving her.

Volkhard grimaces hard. “We had to leave them. There was no time. They took us by surprise.” He shakes his head, still carrying the young girl in his arms. He considers the possibility of placing the girl on the table, pausing momentarily. The girl’s head lolling to the side as she continues to sleep.

“Come Volkhard,” his father gestures. “Let’s get some food for you.” He beckons them into the keep. “Her name is-,” he asks, looking at the girl.

“Shhhh,” his stepmother says. “We shouldn’t speak her name. We don’t know who’s listening.” She glances at Dimitri, smiling hesitantly. She ruffles his hair friendly, and he leans into her touch a little, her small hands brushing against his scalp. Volkhard watches them with a curious look on his face.

“We call her ‘El’ in the family.” Volkhard supplies, brushing back a long lock of her light brown hair. “It’ll do for now. She should be in bed, it’s been a long day for her. She’s exhausted.”

* * *

**(Almost 2 weeks since the Insurrection, 1171)**

His stepmother hasn’t stopped shaking since Volkhard and the girl, El, arrived. Volkhard has introduced himself as his stepmother’s older brother, making him Dimitri’s step uncle by marriage. His full name is Volkhard von Arundel and his territory is part of the Adrestrian Empire borders the lands of the Kingdom of Faerghus. He cannot stay very long as the Insurrection has disrupted the peace of Adrestria. He needs to go back and ensure the safety of the peasantry in his territory. El, the girl, has yet to wake up much to his stepmother’s concern and worry.. She will stay behind while Volkhard leaves.

Three days after they’ve arrived, El comes down with Volkhard for their morning meal. She clutches his hand tightly, warily watching them as the two of them walk towards the large dining hall. She lingers behind her uncle’s tall figure, examining the room.

His stepmother’s chair screeches as she pushes it back in excitement, rising. “El, do-,“she stammers, hope in her eyes. “Do you remember me?” His father watches his wife, taking her hand into his, intertwining their fingers.

El looks his stepmother up and down, her light purple eyes finally reaching his stepmother’s own eyes, and slowly shakes her head, edging behind Volkhard.

“Uncle,” she murmurs quietly. “Where are we? Where is father and the others?”

* * *

**(3 weeks since the Insurrection 1171)**

“Lambert,” Rodrigue shouts, “Are you insane!?” Lambert’s informed Rodrigue of his recent acquisitions to his family in his office. “A daughter of the Emperor in your hands? If the Empire gets wind of this, they’ll invade without question!” That would be in the guise of reclaiming one of the Emperor’s lost children, but they both know there are many nobles who would jump at the chance to reclaim the Kingdom of Faerghus.

Lambert shakes his head. “Von Arundel requested if we could help him. Besides, as a part of the Insurrection himself, he knows what his allies are capable of.” He sighs, “Patricia asked me, it is her daughter.” He points out, sighing and interlocking his fingers, muttering to himself. Rodrigue’s strong reaction would not be the last.

“She was exiled!” Rodrigue argues, “Theoretically, she has no control over the child’s well-being!” He sits, trying to relax himself and shoves his palms over his knees. He’s known Lambert since they were children, but even he can’t yell at the King of Faerghus for too long. “You risk the Kingdom’s autonomy.” He states calmly, taking a deep breath. “I doubt even the Church of Seiros would support us in this matter.”

“He has ten other children.” Lambert retorts. “She isn’t even his oldest.” He sits too, in the opposite chair of Rodrigue. “Open rebellion against their sovereign,” Lambert says, shaking his head. In the Insurrection's aftermath, Emperor Ionius still lives but now a prisoner in his palace in Enbarr.

“Emperor Ionius was trying to consolidate his power,” Rodrigue points out. “The Empire is so vast, he needs the other nobles of the Seven to even govern the territory properly. It was foolish on his part.” While Ionius was still Emperor, the lands of the Empire spanned half the continent of Fodlan. He needed the major noble families to help govern the Empire. While no longer the major power on the continent they used to be, they were still powerful, compared to the Kingdom and the Alliance.

“Good thing I don’t have that problem,” Lambert joked. The Kingdom was the second largest country on the continent of Fodlan; however, Faerghus nobles are concerned with having enough food to last through the winter. Thus, they cannot challenge the power of the King without the support of the people who they need alive and strong.

Besides, as King, Lambert has earned enough hospitality with the other nobles in the North. It’s different in the Empire. Each noble who took part in the Seven each held a distinct role in the Empire with significant amounts of power within its infrastructure, garnering enough power to worry Ionius until it was too late. The Seven planned a rebellion that didn’t start a continental war without alerting their Emperor’s own nose, Volkhard included.

“Don’t even say that Lambert,” Rodrigue snaps. “Does she bear the Crest of Seiros?” He asks quietly. If she ever activates it in the wrong company, it could spell trouble for their charade. With that crest, it would be hard to deny her lineage.

Lambert nods, “Patricia informed me, it’s only a Minor crest,ever. She and a couple other children have it.” Leaning forward, “She’s still a little confused. Von Arundel had to leave to go back to his lands, and she doesn’t remember Patricia much. He had her separated from El when she was young.” Patricia was exiled from the Empire and had been his wife for a few years now

“Does Dimitri know?” As his only son and heir, Dimitri is learning how to rule, but Dimitri is a kind young boy who appears very feminine much to his own concern. He’s also not a very good liar, much like his father.

“He knows of her and that she’s here but not of her identity and true relationship to Patricia.”

“What have you told him?” Rodrigue asks curiously. He has two sons close to Dimitri’s age and they are close friends with the Crown Prince.

“That she’s another child of a cousin of theirs that they have who’s dead, making them distant cousins.” Lambert states. He never enjoys lying to Dimitri but in the early days since the Insurrection happened, Rodrigue had a point, if word broke out about what they’ve done not even the Church or the Alliance would help them. “You know he doesn’t even know how Patricia even ended up in the Kingdom and I intend to keep that way.” Dimitri is young enough that even when told to keep a secret, there was a chance that he’d whisper it to Felix and Ingrid who’d tell it to Sylvain and somehow it’d reach Margrave Gautier’s ears and out the door. The fewer people that knew, the better.

Rodrigue shakes his head. “We’ve had this discussion before and I don’t care to repeat it but you know my feelings about having a wife and now a small child of the Emperor in your castle.” The story of how Patricia ended up in the Empire wasn’t a pretty story.

“Technically, she wasn’t a wife but a mistress,” Lambert repeats. They’ve had this discussion before, several times. Rodrigue likes Patricia but she isn't work the risk for the Kingdom.

“If the Church of Seiros allowed polygamy, she’d be a wife,” Rodrigue snaps. “Who else will know?”

“Just you,” Lambert replies, warily, looking down at the stack of papers that littered his desk. There’s been an outpouring of letters from Kingdom nobles asking for more information about the Insurrection of the Seven. It’s a cause of concern for them. Emperor Ionius never showed very much aggression towards the Kingdom or the Alliance, but who knew what the Seven had planned, they could be dangerous.

Rodrigue looks at him sharply. “Are you sure?” They have been friends since they were young boys, even before their time at the Officer’s Academy but they’ve distanced a bit ever since Lambert took the throne and his first wife Elisabeth passed. “Not anyone else?” As Rodrigue takes more and more responsibility for securing the west of the Kingdom for his King, he doesn’t spend as much time Fhirdiad as he used to.

“Can there be anyone else?” Lambert shoots back. He reclines in his stiff backed wooden chair. “You know, I know, Von Arundel knows, Patricia knows, and El will know but that’s all I plan on telling,” counting off his fingers.

“What’s your plan with her, Lambert?” Rodrigue questions. “She can’t stay in the Kingdom forever, just some cousin of the King and his second wife who no one knows about.” Lambert’s kept the truth of Patricia from leaking outside of the court. She doesn’t even appear in state events and does not wear the jewelry of past queens. She doesn’t care.

He shakes his head. “Von Arundel’s plan is to use her claim on the throne of the Emperor when she is of age. Patricia wants to keep her with us in the Kingdom forever if she can. But I’m not sure. You have a point, she cannot be a child of Von Arundel’s lineage and stay in the Kingdom without further explanation. I intend to reveal Patricia as Queen and my wife soon, but the timing has to be right.”

Rodrigue looks at him skeptically. “I’ll address Von Arundel’s plan at a later time.” He dismisses, shifting their conversation to another topic. “Can you imagine the look on Charon’s face when he realizes you’ve been married all this time?” He throws his head back laughing. The topic of Lambert’s unmarried status while only having one heir and still being able to sire more children does not sit well with the nobles of the Kingdom. Especially those with daughters of child-bearing age. Lambert has had to bat off marriage proposals for years.

Lambert shakes his head. “Poor Cassandra. She’s an excellent fighter, we’d be lucky to have her in our ranks. She’ll be graduating from the Officer’s Academy soon.” He speaks of Cassandra, Charon’s oldest and a talented swordsman in her own right, regardless of the major Crest she bears.

“She bests Glenn regularly.” Rodrigue smiles at the memory of his oldest face down in the mud after their duels. It’s kept him from getting too arrogant with his own abilities. “So the plan is to keep her in the Kingdom until she’s of age?”

Lambert nods, “You may call me insane but I’ve had some thoughts about it as she grows older, having El on the Empire’s throne may not be such a bad idea. She could foster a better relationship with the Church if raised with the Kingdom. The borders could be less strict between the countries, trade could flow easier, and there’s enough food in the Empire to feed the entire continent of Fodlan.”

“Training her in the ways of the Kingdom will be a priority. Will she be joining Dimitri for his lessons?” Rodrigue points out. That’ll be the only she’ll have the leadership skills necessary to lead the Empire in the future. “Will she go to the Officer’s Academy when she’s old enough? That’s the only place equipped well enough to do it. And what will you do then? You don’t think they’ll see who she is?” They being the Church of Seiros and the Empire, anyone concerned with the leadership of Fodlan. All noble children who can afford it attend the Officer’s Academy. There will be Empire nobles there who will have met her. "You’re not worried there’s a chance that she could run into a sibling? She does have a lot of them.

“The last Hresvelg to attend the Academy was Ionius himself and that was decades ago.” He strums his fingers on his thighs. “El has several siblings of age to attend the Officer’s Academy but they haven’t set foot in Garreg Mach Monastery that could have attended.” Ionius was the last Hresvelg to attend the military academy, and that was over twenty years ago.

* * *

**(2 months after the Insurrection, 1171)**

The day Sylvain meets Prince Dimitri’s little ghost cousin is a strange day. His father has been summoned for a regular council meeting that King Lambert likes to call every so often. His father will bring both Sylvain and Miklan with him to court. It’s been a couple of years since the Annexation of Sreng but as House Gautier continues their subjugation of the territory, his father has grown none closer to the King. Sylvain may lay the blame for that at his father’s feet as he’s never made a comment on his friendship with Prince Dimitri.

He plays and trains with Dimitri when they were young, even once a victim to the time that the young prince broke one of his lances. Felix started bawling at the noise. But as he grows older and trains in the things that Miklan’s never mastered, he has had little time to spend in Fhirdiad.

Glenn, Felix, and Ingrid aren’t even in Fhirdiad right now so as he knows it goes, it’s just him and Dimitri in the palace. It’s already been two hours since he rose, and he hasn’t spotted Dimitri. He’s already been to the training grounds twice. He wanders around, looking for the blond head of his future majesty but has had no luck.

“Watch your feet Dimitri!” A young girl’s voice commands, echoing through the clearing. “Remember, you are supposed to be leading with your right!” She shrieks in pain, most likely because Dimitri stepped on her foot. Despite his gentleness, Dimitri knows not of his full strength and how much it hurts.

His highness is dancing with a young girl with light brown hair styled in two low pigtails. She’s most likely closer to Dimitri’s age than Sylvain’s, but it is slightly comical as she teaches Dimitri how to waltz properly or tries to. Dimitri has two left feet sometimes.

“There you are Dimitri!” Sylvain greets cheerfully. The two leap apart as if they had been caught. Dimitri’s eyes brighten once he’s noticed that it’s Sylvain approaching. “I’ve been looking everywhere.” The girl looks at him distrustfully, light purple eyes narrowing. She’s paler than most, even in the north of Faerghus. He plasters on a smile, one of his more charming ones. "Have we met?”

“No,” she says primly, “my name is El.” He raises a hand out to greet her. She’s noble born, he determines from the clean and smooth palms.

She takes his hand, and he bows, and shakes, surprised at her strong grip. He moves to kiss her hand, which she quickly takes away, raising her chin at his surprised brow.

“Teaching his highness how to dance?” Sylvain asks, despite knowing the answer already.

“Teaching being a relative term,” Dimitri shakes his head forlornly. “It’s like I have stone feet.”

“You also need to stop looking down,” El corrects him none too gently. “How on earth are you going to dance properly if you can even look your partner in the eye?” She purses her lips. “I heard that Faerghus places a higher significance on training but you really shouldn’t be this bad since you’ve had combat training.” She stresses.

Sylvain tilts his head at that fact, one he ignores. “Perhaps his highness would do better with a visual demonstration?”

They both turn to him. “A visual demonstration?” Dimitri questions innocently.

“Well, some people learn better by watching than doing.” Sylvain points out. “You might be one of them.”

“And who exactly would he be watching?” El challenges.

“Us.” He smiles brightly, taking her hands in his. He tightens his grip so she can’t yank her hands away. “It’s a simple waltz, right? Nothing too hard to show.” He pulls her into the familiar pattern, even as she tries to jerk her hands away. “I promise not to step on your feet.”

She glares at him, sniffs disdainfully and continues dancing as they follow a rhythm of their bodies knew by heart.

“Watch and learn Dimitri,” Sylvain grins. “It’s just being aware of a million things at once.” Once they get into a rhythm, he spins her, leading her through the dance. She grimaces, her hair fanning out as they continue. She’s graceful as Sylvain leads her. She was leading Dimitri but seamlessly matches his pace, she’s been trained. He gets the feeling that she’s letting him lead.

She turns away just about when Sylvain is going to dip her, jerking her hands out. “We haven’t gotten that far so there’s no point in showing that for him,” she turns her head. She reminds him of an awful lot of Ingrid, except she’s more delicate and cheek than Ingrid. Ingrid would never be this rude to a complete stranger. “Did that help?” She asks pointedly to Dimitri still watching.

Dimitri nods, “Yes, it helps me realize that I will never be that graceful.”

* * *

**(3 months after the Insurrection, 1171)**

Ingrid’s been engaged to Glenn for almost two years now. They haven’t scheduled a wedding date yet and at the age of eight, her family is trying to pull her dowry together. Even though Duke Fraldarius said it wasn’t necessary, her family’s pride wouldn’t allow it. She’s the oldest in her family and is the only one who bears the Crest of Daphnel, even though it’s just a minor one. She’s the best bargaining chip her family wields. Her engagement to Glenn, the son of the king’s right-hand man was a major coup for her impoverished family.

Her family had been in talks with the Fraldarius family since Ingrid was born, but her family’s situation has worsened since another famine may start in their lands. As a house that broke off from House Daphnel who is part of the Leicester Alliance, their house governs the shadows of the Oghma mountain ranges that offers a natural border between the Alliance and the Kingdom means that they have little to offer anyone, except their Crest of Daphnel. It’s been reported that her crest has been the only to appear in the years between the two houses, which makes her rare and her crest valued.

Her status as the heir of Fraldarius’s fiance means that she is invited to court often. Especially since the Annexation of Sreng happened and Duke Fraldarius earned his title as the 'Shield of Faerghus’, raising his stature amongst the nobles in Faerghus who has the ear of the King. Glenn may not have the Crest of Fraldarius but that means little to her and her family.

She’s just arrived at court and is hungry. She wants to see if there is any extra food in the kitchens, but she knows that she should find the others first. Margrave Gautier and Sylvain have been here for two weeks as House Gautier continues to integrate the lower half of Sreng into their territory. It’s been almost three years since they marched into Sreng but as Sylvain often complains in their letters, it’s slow going. Sylvain’s only two years older than them, but his duties seem to expand by the month.

Her father has mentioned Miklan, Sylvain’s older brother, doesn’t have the Crest of Gautier, making Sylvain the heir of House Gautier, to which she wrinkles her nose at. Sylvain? Him being in charge of anything seems to be nothing short of a disaster of an idea. She heads to the training field first. She’s only eight but as the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus goes, children begin their training early and young to better ensure that they’ll survive past the harsh winters.

She pushes the doors to the training field open, slipping through the crack as Sylvain gets knocked off his feet with a yelp. His opponent is a girl her age, wielding a training axe, who withdraws it in favor of helping Sylvain back up. “You all right?” She asks, tilting her head. “I didn’t think I hit you that hard.”

“Just your looks caught me off guard,” Sylvain jokes, winking getting up. The girl frowns and shoves Sylvain with a light push, flipping her hair afterwards. Sylvain winces slightly but says nothing.

“Ingrid!” Dimitri yells cheerfully, watching from the sidelines. “When did you get here?” He’s sitting on the dirt floor, his legs crossed from watching them spar.

“Just today,” she answers. The girl looks at her curiously. Ingrid does not recognize her, a new addition to their quartet. “Ingrid.” She reaches out her hand to the girl.

“El,” she takes it and curtseys, her light brown hair draping over her shoulders. “It’s nice to meet you. Dimitri mentioned you before. Ingrid of House Galatea, correct?” They converse casually as Sylvain makes the introductions for the two.

Ingrid nods, “Were you sparring?” She asks curiously. The girl is slight, smaller than Dimitri. It would be nice to have another girl in the mix. It’s not as if she is very feminine but having another girl to spar and train with would be nice. The boys don’t really understand the struggles she faces.

“We were,” El confirms. “Are you here to spar as well?” Ingrid shakes her head woefully. “What weapon do you favor?”

“Lance,” Ingrid replies. “Axe, I assume?” Gesturing the small axe clasped in her hands.

“Axes are my usual weapon of choice but I’ve trained in swords too.” El responds. “Do many people in Faerghus use Lances?” She gestures towards Dimitri and Sylvain who’ve got a drink and to rest a little before sparring again. They use lances as well.

“It was the favored weapon of King Loog as mentioned in the Sword of Kyphon. Ingrid states, speaking of the famed King Loog, the founder of the Kingdom of Faerghus. It is one of the most popular tales in Faerghus and it details the exploits of Kyphon and Loog and as they fight for the independence of the Kingdom. It’s a well-liked tale of the bards.”

“Kyphon,” El tests out the words in her mouth. “He was of House Fraldarius, was he not?” She mentions Kyphon who was King Loog’s right-hand man, just as Lord Fraldarius was King Lambert’s right-hand man, during the War of the Eagle and the Lion.

“He was. Have you heard of the tale?” Ingrid asks, most children are raised on the stories of old, including the Loog and the Maiden of the Wind in Faerghus.

El shakes her head. “I haven’t, they weren’t told where I’m from. But they sound interesting. Are people only trained in Lances here?”

“Nope,” Glenn answers for Ingrid, popping up over her shoulder. “Felix here likes to use Swords too, just like our ancestor Kyphon.” He claps Felix hard over the shoulder grinning. Felix scowls, shoving his older brother’s hand off his shoulder.

“Glenn!” Ingrid greets, flushing slightly. She hadn’t noticed him arrive with Felix. “Have you been here long?”

“Just two hours, Father wanted to speak to us both, or we would have been there to greet you, my apologies.” He bows slightly. “I don’t think we’ve met,” he says to El, who’s been watching them curiously. Ingrid’s face only flushes redder.

“El.” She responds tightly. “Are you Rodrigues’ sons?” Her light purple eyes skim over the same dark-colored hair that they share with their father.

Felix scowls while Glenn chuckles. “We are. Have you met him?” Glenn’s almost a full-grown man. According to her father, he should be named as a knight to the Royal Guard soon, so skilled with the lance and in combat.

“We’ve only been introduced.” She turns to Ingrid. “Do you want to spar?” She requests politely, a small axe still in hand. It looks like she’s using a shorter axe for the time being as it fits more proportionately to her small frame.

“Oh, I’m not dressed for it.” Ingrid said regretfully, as she was still in her traveling clothes and if she rips these, she’s likely not going to be able to get new ones soon.

“Perhaps next time.” El suggests lightly. She looks at Dimitri and Sylvain, making their way over excitedly after finishing her spar. Dimitri defeated Sylvain soundly as Felix and Glenn’s entrance distracted Sylvain. She looks away, gripping the training axe tightly.

“I’ll spar with you.” Felix blurts. El smiles as Felix grabs a training sword. They circle each other, their weapons in hand.

* * *

**(3 months after the Insurrection, 1171)**

It was a good sparring session for Felix despite arriving so late. El can hit hard for her size but then again, he also knows with Dimitri who’s broken so many lances he can’t count them anymore. With her using an axe, it gives him a different weapon type so spar against, so used to fighting against lances. She doesn’t seem to be trained as they have, but they have been training since they could walk.

He went a few rounds with her and then with Sylvain while El sparred with Glenn and Dimitri. Glenn even does a round trying to face all of them at once. They finally get him when Sylvain sweeps Glenn’s feet from under him with the lower end of his lance when El and Dimitri were distracting him. He used his height and length to keep them from ganging up on him as much as he could. Ingrid said that she’d join in tomorrow when she changed her clothes.

They head to the kitchens first because Dimitri and Sylvain both said that they were hungry, and so is Ingrid too even if she won’t say it. They get some Faerghus Sweet Buns, eagerly proffered up by the baker in the kitchen for the prince and his friends. Felix knows that they shouldn’t be eating something that sweet before dinner and even though he doesn’t like sweets either, the others do and he’ll have some too if only a bit.

“Have you had one before?” Glenn asks before offering one up to El. Glenn has a major sweet tooth as well but as he grows older, he’s less inclined to play with them much to Felix’s frustration.

She shakes her head, taking it from his hand. “Here, you rip instead of biting into it,” Glenn demonstrates to her, pulling apart a small piece before popping into his mouth with a smile. “These are one of Ingrid’s favorite foods.”

“Although Ingrid likes most foods,” Felix points out. Ingrid elbows him in the side with a jerk.

El puts a small piece into her mouth, chewing it slowly. She covers her mouth in shock and reaches for another piece. After swallowing, “It’s really good!” She says excitedly.

“Told ya we had good food.” Sylvain teases. He grabs one of his own, ripping one in half and cramming it into his mouth.

El flushes. “It’s not a matter of good food or not, it’s just very different from what I’ve had before.” They continue nibbling on the sweet buns, introducing El the idea of drizzling different sauces onto the bread. El seems to favor honey and chocolate, showing a strong sweet tooth.

“Dimitri,” King Lambert enters the kitchen stiffly. In his presence, everyone in the kitchen kneels. He motions for them to rise, announcing gruffly.“There’s been some news from the Empire.” El raises her chin slightly, her eyes never leaving the king.

“Word has arrived that the Emperor Ionius’s eldest son Hector has passed away from illness.” His gaze roves over the six of them, stopping on El and Dimitri who stand together. “I want you to stay in the palace. Cornelia will visit from Arianrhod to put health precautions into place. We need to make sure this isn’t another plague.”


	2. Part I Chapter II

* * *

(1 year after the Insurrection, 1172)

“So what do you think?” Ingrid closes her copy of Loog and the Maiden of the Wind. She finished reading the epilogue to El. “Did you like it?” It’s been well over a year since El came into their lives and Ingrid is more grateful for it. She could never read these tales to Dimitri while he was training to become King, Felix hated the tales of chivalry that she adored, and Sylvain was too busy chasing after girls to sit down and read for just a moment. Glenn didn’t have time to waste on these stories. 

He was the one who read the books to them. El had never read these books before, so Ingrid could see her genuine reactions to every twist and turn in the tales. She only has brothers, and they do not bear the Crest of Daphnel.

Even when they were apart, El would write to her every time she finished another chapter.

It was exciting, getting to know El and how she reacted to Ingrid’s favorite childhood books for the very first time.

El was lying down, reclined in her bed. “I did... I never thought to look at the establishment of the Kingdom and the Alliance like that before,” she hums, playing with the threads on Ingrid’s quilt.

“What do you mean?” Ingrid cocks her head to the side, she’s read all the books, several times front to back, she knows them by heart. The best part of El reading the books for the first time is that she gets to see those genuine reactions and offer different perspectives on the books. 

“Well, that story is romantic.” El describes, “How Loog courts his love and convinces her to become his Queen after she served him as one of his knights in the guard.” She pauses, finding her words. “She loved him, as her lord and leader, but she gave up all her freedom just so she could be his consort. No more fighting, no more being a knight.”

“But….” 

“It seems such a shame for her, though. She came from the region that is now the Alliance?” El asks. “The same region that became the Leicester Alliance splintered from the Empire. The Kingdom eventually absorbed it because of their close ties. If she had stayed independent, she could have founded the Alliance right after, couldn’t she? The Empire was still unstable and the Alliance could join the Kingdom during the Leicester Rebellion just fifty years later. She could have fought for the Alliance independence and then brought it in when she married Loog.”

“Oh, now you’re bringing in history lessons.” Ingrid points out. “This book is more so about the love story between the two than the politics that follow.” Ingrid counters. El is a realist, it seems.

“It just seems cleaner, my way.” El smiles back, relaxing on the many pillows that adorn Ingrid’s bed.

“They were happy,” Ingrid shrugs. “Isn’t that what anyone could ask for?”

“Perhaps.” The Royal Family is in Galatean territory, visiting Ingrid and her family. The famine is only getting worse and Lambert’s doing his best to keep them well-rationed, but as winter sets in, it will only be harder for them. El has been trying to convince Ingrid to stay with them in the capital for the winter.

An owl pecks on the window of Ingrid’s room as El is staying with Ingrid in her own room as the castle where they live doesn’t have enough room to accommodate everyone appropriately. They use owls instead of sending messengers here because keeping owls fed is cheaper than feeding humans.

“What is it?” El doesn’t even raise her head from the bed.

Ingrid plucks the message from the owl’s beak, feeding it a small dried grub she has on her desks when they deliver messages. “Just a quick note. Another of the Emperor’s heirs has passed away…. he killed himself it seems.”

Slight shifting in the bed as El sits up. “Did they say which one it was this time?”

“His name was Castor, a little bit older than Sylvain it seems.” She turns the note over in her hands. “The poor Emperor, that’ll be the fourth one this year.”

El stays silent.

“Which one do you want to read next?” Placing the note on her desk, she gestures to the stack of books she has. “We could read the Sword of Kyphon or the Tower of the North.”

“Can we take a break?” El lies back down, closing her eyes. “I’m a little tired.”

* * *

(1 year after the Insurrection 1172)

“Von Arundel isn’t sure what’s happening to El’s siblings,” Lambert pushed back his hair in frustration. “He’s lost influence with the Seven since he left while the Insurrection was going on and he has no leverage with them.” Since El came to the Kingdom, Von Arundel has been in the Arundel territory, governing over his people. As a member of the Seven, he goes to the capital occasionally, but his recent letters to both Lambert and Patricia speak to more frustration with his colleagues.

“Three of them are dead.” Rodrigue states quietly. “It’s suspicious, no matter how you look at it. Do you think this is Von Aegir’s doing?” He brings up the Prime Minister of the Empire, the one pulling the strings of the Emperor after the Insurrection. Amongst the nobility in Fodlan, Von Aegir is slimy even for a noble. His family has served as the Prime Minister of the Empire since almost its inception and has always wielded great power in Adrestia.

They’ve only met the Prime Minister a handful of times and he is a slimy, slimy man.

Things have calmed down in the Empire and it’s become a well-accepted fact that Ionius is not in charge, but the status quo has not changed. Trade is still slow between the countries and heavily monitored. But there was fear that the Seven would plan to invade the other countries of Fodlan or look to invade outside of it, inviting war. 

Lambert shakes his head. “If it is him, he’s not being very subtle. What worries me is that we haven’t heard hide nor hair of El’s other siblings unless they die. If it is Von Aegir, Von Arundel would have told us plainly. I think he’s still pulling for Edelgard to claim the throne.” He looks down at his desk, at the many papers covering his desk. There’s a lot of paperwork when it comes to governing a kingdom.

“Could it be Von Arundel himself?” Rodrigue says, shocked. “Could he be doing this so if Edelgard returns to Adrestia, she has a clear path to the throne. She has the Crest of Seiros, it’d be easy to prove her identity.” There were only a few of Ionius’s heirs that had the Crest of Seiros manifest within, El was obviously one of them, but among eleven children, there weren’t many. Hresvelg kept it a secret about which heir manifested their hereditary crest. It was tradition in the Empire that when the Emperor passed, their heir would not declare themselves for several months as they consolidated their power in the Empire.

Lambert stares, his blue eyes piercing. “I wouldn’t recommend saying that in front of Patricia.” Despite their years apart, Patricia and Volkhard were incredibly close.

“Do you agree with me?” Rodrigue asks, bluntly. 

“No,” Lambert responds definitively, “Von Arundel isn’t a position to have control over those children and he wanted to bring them to the Kingdom during the Insurrection but like you said last year...one child is already risky enough,” he points out. Volkhard was a good man, what was happening to those children, it was horrific. 

“What does Patricia want?” Rodrigue asks quietly. His wife still stays in the shadow of Kingdom politics. He plans on introducing her to the court but with the shadow of the Insurrection still heavy on people’s minds, it wasn’t a good idea introducing the sister of one of the participants as his wife. 

“She wants El safe as we all do.” Lambert frowns, “But something is rotten in the state of the Empire and it’s not just the Insurrection.” A true statement for sure, it didn’t sit well when the Empire removed the southern branch of the Church of Seiros, but it was their decision. 

“How’s El taking the news?” Rodrigue inquires. Felix and Glenn have spoken about the young girl, of her willingness to spar and read. He’s grown fond of her in a way that he didn’t imagine. Another playmate for Felix to train with and she’s gotten close with Ingrid, which makes Glenn like her because Ingrid writes to Glenn often. 

“No outbursts. I’m surprised really. I thought she had seen a ghost when I told them that the Emperor’s oldest had passed away.” Lambert mused, “She was close with all of them.” Despite their similar looks, El doesn’t resemble her mother in personality at all. Patricia was sweet and lively, she liked to dance and tease. At age 10, El was stern and determined to act older than her age. Her only sign of immaturity was her enormous sweet-tooth. 

“Three children dead in ten months.” Rodrigue shook his head. “It is tragic is what it is. There’s no lost love between you and Ionius, but we should pity the man.”

* * *

(1 ½ years after the Insurrection, 1172)

“Come on, Dimitri!” El yells as they run down the hallway. She ducked past a maid, rushing towards the courtyard. Her brown pigtails flying behind her as she dodges past another knight. 

“Slow down El! You’ll crash.” Dimitri calls out, only a few steps behind her. It’s just them at court today, all their other playmates had to go home for the summer progress. Von Arundel was coming today, and they hadn’t seen him since he came to the Kingdom with El. She won’t say it, but Dimitri knows she’s missed him.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Von Arundel swept in with his long robes, plucking El off the floor. He pulls her close, lifting her off the floor. His purple eyes meet hers. 

“Uncle!” El cries out, hugging him tightly. She nuzzles her head into his neck. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, sweetling.” He put her back on the floor and knelt down. “How have you been, have they been feeding you all right?” He looks her up and down, his first look at his only niece since he left her with her mother. The look in his eyes is fond as he cups her face, examining her round cheeks. 

“Just fine, Uncle.” El smiles. “Dimitri! Over here.” In the courtyard's bustle, he had gotten separated from El and was looking for her around the activity. “Are you here to take me back to the Empire?” She asks quietly before Dimitri reaches them. It’s been on her mind ever since she was left there. Patricia had done her best to explain her presence here, but it wasn’t enough for the ever-curious girl.

“Not today, El.” Von Arundel shook his head. “It’s not safe for you there.” He stays kneeling, looking at her in the face. He pushes back a lock of her hair that came loose when she was flying through the courtyard.

“You mean about Hector? And Castor? And Katarina?” El questions, lips tight. She misses the Empire and her siblings and her father and Hubert. But she understands. The palace was being attacked when her uncle got her out. It wasn’t safe for her in Enbarr.

“In part yes.” He stands back up, looking Dimitri in the eye as he approaches. “Hello, your highness,” he bows. He stands up tall and lean, the year and a half since they’ve seen him; he’s aged, there are more wrinkles than last they saw him. “How have you been?” He greets fondly. “If you don’t mind, I need to speak to your father about something.”

“Probably in his office,” Dimitri says. “We can show you the way.” El takes his hand and beams up at him, smiling brightly. She’s missed her uncle dearly.

* * *

(2 years after the Insurrection, 1173)

El learns and trains with Dimitri under the eye of one of his father’s most loyal knights, Gustave Eddie Dominic, whose lands are in the northern west part of Faerghus. He has a daughter the same age as the two, although she never came to court, staying with her mother in their territory.

Specializing both in axes and lances, Gustave spends equal amounts of time on both El and Dimitri, instructed by Lambert to do so. The reasoning behind it is not told to Gustave, who’s loyalty to his king knows no bounds. He knows not of El’s past or her identity.

El’s closeness to the royal family is never explained. The others around court know that she is Patricia’s distant relative adopted by her the King’s wife and do not explain the reason for her appearance is never. It is said that she hails from the south, explaining her more Adrestrian appearance. It made sense that she would be at court to build closer ties with the Kingdom where her mother now lives, but they do not question her proximity, out loud at the very least.

Taking a break after dismantling another stuffed dummy with her training axe, El asks, “Your daughter’s name is Annette, correct?”

“Oh, yes,” Gustave says, placing another wooden dummy in front of her. “She’s my only child and heir to Dominic territory. My brother is teaching her how to lead as I was called into service by King Lambert.”

“How kind of him,” El muses. “What is she like?” Her light purple eyes meet Gustave’s bright blue eyes.

“Annette... is kind. Her laughter knows no bounds,” Gustave smiles, fondly. “She tries very hard in all that she does but her stubbornness, she gets from her mother.”

“She sounds lovely,” El says, standing up. She sizes the training dummy up, giving her training axe a little twirl in her hands and makes quick work of it. “Does she bear the Crest of Dominic?” She stands back, analyzing the cuts she made. She needs to make them deeper if she is to be more effective, as Gustave instructs her.

“She does,” Gustave affirms, as he adjusts her handle of the training Axe. “In time, your strikes will be more potent.” He informs her. “As you grow older, your strength will follow.”

She frowns, testing out the new angle of her wrist. “I will need to get more practice for this to feel more comfortable.”

“That too will come in time.”

* * *

(2 ½ years after the Insurrection, 1173)

“How did you break your ankle?” Ingrid storms into Sylvain’s room, forced into bedrest, quickly followed by the others. “How could you be so clumsy?” Dimitri’s blonde head followed first, then by El’s, and then Felix. 

“Hey guys,” Sylvain chuckles, his foot sticking up underneath the blanket. “In all fairness, it’s been like a week and I’ve been healing just fine, or so the healers tell me.”

“So?” Ingrid asks bluntly, sitting on his bed, avoiding his injured limb. It’s the only time she’ll be delicate with him, when he’s injured himself. 

“Just a training accident,” Sylvain responds. “I wasn’t watching where I was going and fell.” His foot sticks out firmly underneath the blankets. His treatment will involve bed rest for three days before the healers will take another look at his foot.

“Really?” El’s light voice responds. “I heard from the maids that you were in the gardens when it happened.” El tilts her head curiously as Sylvain’s red eyes meet hers.

He freezes momentarily, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Oops, you caught me. I wasn’t actually training. Haha.”

El stares at him, eyes boring into him. But she remains silent.

After reading out loud another chapter of the Adelyn Around the World, a new book for El, Ingrid finally confesses her hunger and goes to the kitchen for something to eat. Felix and Dimitri follow her while El opts to stay and read another chapter of Adelyn and her adventures.

This story involves a merchant who travels around Morfis and its magical world. 

“You know...I had several siblings,” El tells Sylvain, her eyes still on the book but unmoving. “One of them was older and very strong. Not Dimitri strong, but still powerful.” Sylvain doesn’t meet her eyes, and she continues. 

“He accidentally broke our sister’s arm during a sparring bout. But it was an accident, and he was upset afterwards.” Her light purple eyes meet Sylvain’s red ones when he raises his gaze, unblinking. “Was this an accident as well, Sylvain? Were they upset?”

Sylvain doesn’t answer. Not for a moment, anyway.

“Crests can poison relationships based on what is essentially a genetic lottery. You cannot choose to have a crest or not to have a crest, but what you can choose is how you treat people with or without them, just as the others treat me.” El states calmly. “You’re a good person, Sylvain. The fact that you have a crest should not color your relationships with others.” She closes the book lightly and places it on the table next to the bed and looks at him calmly. “Now, do you want anything from the kitchens?”

* * *

(3 years after the Insurrection, 1174)

“Von Arundel wants to bring El back to Enbarr,” Lambert murmurs to Rodrigue. “He feels it’s time to bring her back to the capital.”

Rodrigue stares, agape. “I-what?” Rodrigue struggles with the words in his mouth, “With six of the Emperor’s children dead?” Since the three years past the Insurrection, more of Ionius’s children have passed away, from accidents, to taking their own life, or illness. Such a thing is not uncommon, as the survival rate for children to reach 18 is a fifty-fifty chance, but the rate in which they are passing away is unnerving and the little information that is out there.

“He wants to take her back there?” He’s admittedly grown even more fond of El as he interacts with her. She pushes back against Felix when his sharp tongue lashes out against Dimitri and Sylvain when Ingrid and Glenn cannot stop him. But her utilitarian nature pushes Dimitri to be more proactive as he grows older and needs to make his own independent decisions as the future king. 

“Patricia says something must be wrong as he’s stopped writing as much or he’s much colder than he used to be in his letters at the very least.” Lambert’s eyes brush over the latest letter from his brother-in-law. He closes his eyes, thinking. “He’s always had a good relationship with us, but he has stopped writing as of late. Every other month, he would ask of how El is doing, but now nothing. He only cares for taking her back to Enbarr.”

“It’s not safe for her there,” Rodrigue protested. “That many deaths in a family in such a short time…” He pauses, “El has flourished here. She’s gotten comfortable with the children and her training. Taking her back to Enbarr so abruptly, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Lambert nods, “In the beginning she used to ask when she would go back, but now she never asks that now. However, I worry. I don’t even want to speak of it but if something happens to El’s remaining siblings, and she’s the only one left, I feel that she may want to go back because she’s aware that she’s the only one who can inherit the throne.”

Mouth dry, Rodrigue confesses. “There are rumors that Von Aegir is grooming his own son to take the throne. His name is Ferdinand, and he bears the Crest of Cichol, the crest of Seiros’s right hand. It’s a natural fit as he will become Prime Minister and everyone knows that the real power is with their family now. Might as well make it official.” As Lambert’s right-hand man, he takes note to know what is going on in both the Alliance and the Empire and this piece of news shows that it may be Von Aegir who is the reason for the children’s deaths. 

Lambert breathes and looks up in mercy. “It all goes back to the Insurrection, doesn’t it,” he muses. “If Von Arundel pushes the matter, I will have him banned at the border. Patricia doesn’t want her to leave either and I feel more inclined to side with my wife and the mother of El than the man who betrayed her father.”

* * *

(1 1/2 years before the Tragedy of Duscur, 1175)

News has arrived that Dagda and Brigid have invaded the Empire, starting with territories of Nuvelle and Ochs. It is believed that Dadga, being the much stronger power, has convinced Brigid that it was the perfect time to strike as more of the Emperor’s children have passed away, leaving him weak.

However, this attack caught the Seven, who still lead the Empire, off guard, but they impressively militarize quickly enough to stop their advances until further troops will be armed and they can launch a counter-attack. 

It is an impressive military feat as the Empire was caught unawares, but the man leading the Empire’s military is none other than Count Bergliez who inherited the title in 1168 from his ailing father. The county of Bergliez serves as the Empire’s breadbasket and compared to the others in the Seven, is most likely the most powerful behind Von Aegir, as he serves as the Minister of Military Affairs. Dadga and Brigid will cause significant damage, but only to limited parts of the Empire. They will not come close to Enbarr.

El pores over a map that focuses on the lower parts of the Empire, with Dadga and Brigid in focus. “They caught the forces of Nuvelle and Ochs off guard but the Dagda and Brigid forces haven’t made enough headway inland to force an armistice,” she says shaking her head. “This was foolishness on their part.”

“They were stopped near the county of Hvering but most of their forces remain trapped near Fodlan’s Fangs.” Ingrid muses, looking at the map over with her. She taps the spot where the Brionic Plateau lies. “Why land there, though? If they go north, they near Kingdom territory and I doubt they want to fight two countries at once but even if they go through the county of Hvering, they’ll reach the Oghma mountains, which will slow them should they try to go through it.”

“They could have landed near the Hresvelg territories near Enbarr,” El points at the lowest part of Fodlan. “It’s a longer sea ride, and it’s probably better fortified but they have more room to go if they’re looking to burn their way to Adrestia. They’re doomed.” She borrowed the map from the palace’s library and will have to return it shortly after she finishes training. “The Empire won’t take it lightly. Count Bergliez has been looking to show his power ever since he inherited his title from his father.”

“You think this means the Empire will counter attack, invading Brigid and Dagda,” Ingrid looks at her in curiosity. “I suppose their pride won’t stand for it, especially if the damage is as bad as it’s been reported.”

“It’s probably worse in all honesty,” Dimitri says, pulling up against them, breathing heavily. He had just finished sparring with Felix, who was not taking his brother’s absence to the Officer’s Academy well. Last year, Glenn was named to the King’s Royal Guard and his time training with Felix had all but disappeared. He was now harassing Sylvain to spar with him. “The Empire won’t want to look weak and they’ve been eyeing both Dagda and Brigid since the First Mach War in 721.”

“Expansion, or destruction, do you think?” El asks him, eye raised. 

“Honestly, for the people of Brigid and Dadga’s sake I hope they offer up an armistice and an agreement to become a vassal state,” Dimitri says, “But for the Empire’s peace of mind, I can’t imagine them accepting anything but destruction and surrender.”

“Most likely for Dagda,” Ingrid points out. “If Brigid can prove that Dagda coerced or influenced them to take part in the invasion, perhaps they can just settle for surrender instead. They used Brigid as a launching pad for the invasion, just like usual.”

“The Empire will cripple them but it won’t raze them to the ground.” El looks away, fingers tapping rapidly. “That is for Brigid at the very least. If all of this is true, Brigid had two choices, get destroyed by Dagda or get destroyed by the Empire with a small chance of survival. Dadga will pay the price for this.”


	3. Part I Chapter III

* * *

(1 ½ years before the Tragedy of Duscur, 1175)

Looking over the long list of reforms that Lambert was suggesting, “You’re going to anger a lot of people with these Lambert,” Rodrigue professed. “A lot of powerful people.” The reforms would challenge the rights that the nobility assumed were automatic. 

“If I can create a better country for Dimitri to rule over, it’ll be worth it.” Lambert responds. “Besides, most of these reforms make sense. Too long have our people struggled to feed themselves, looking to Duscur for advice on how plant crops in our barren fields will be well worth it.” Duscur, while a poorer country, had food growing even during the winter.

“These will take time to implement,” Rodrigue breathes. “Your work will have to be subtle,” he suggests. “Trying to force this all at once will create strife in this country.”

“You fear another Insurrection?” Lambert disclosed, “This time in the Kingdom?” The Kingdom at this point in time is stable. They look to the south as the Empire continues their counterattack against Brigid and Dadga and there is some fear that they will look to the north to continue their rough expansion but Lambert has prepared their borders as a response. He hasn’t written to Arundel in months after rejecting his appeal to bring El back to Enbarr but Patricia still writes to Arundel occasionally. Despite their argument over taking El back to Enbarr, the two siblings still write to each other often.

“I fear something worse,” Rodrigue responds. “Dimitri is shaping up to becoming a fine prince and future King but your country still needs you Lambert.” Dimitri is too young to succeed Lambert at his age, meaning that the regency will most likely go to Lambert’s older brother Rufus who was born without the Crest of Blaiddyd if something were to happen. Rufus isn’t disgruntled, not having inherited the throne as he prefers to spend his time enjoying the flesh of others. 

“I will begin slowly. The power structure of the Kingdom does need to change, however. If even nobles like Count Galatea are struggling, I can’t imagine what is like for the peasantry. The nobles are strong, yes but we build this country on those who till the land and serve in our armies and if we do not hear their voices, then I fear our strength is only an illusion.” Lambert decided. “I will spend ten hours a week teaching Dimitri of what the future of this country should be.

But to begin, we will visit the country of Duscur in the North to begin talks, have something of a town hall in each village to start with, and see if we can implement standard taxation around the nearby villages in Fhirdiad.”

“A worthy beginning, your majesty,” Rodrigue bows. “I am sure Dimitri will be elated to spend more time with you learning about Faerghus.”

“I’ll have Patricia reach out to Duscur’s ruling monarch to see if we can arrange a visit up north.” Lambert stated, scribbling his notes down. “Viscount Kleiman will be informed, so he has time to prepare to host us as well before we leave for Duscur. I can leave Fhirdiad in your capable hands during the visit, correct?”

“Of course,” Rodrigue bows again. 

“And please stop bowing, we’ve known each other for two decades.” Lambert snaps, not even looking at Rodrigue.

“Of course,” Rodrigue bows again, ignoring Lambert’s wishes, out of cheek. “This will be a state visit, you’ll have the Royal Guard accompany you, correct?” Rodrigue guesses, “That means Glenn will be with you if you visit next year.”

“Indeed,” Lambert confirms. “How is he liking Garreg Mach Monastery? Has he been tempted to climb the roofs of the Church there yet, like we did?” Although they are the stern statesmen of Faerghus now, they got into more mischief at the Garreg Mach Monastery, to where they almost drove Tomas, the librarian there insane with their antics.

Rodrigue shakes his head, “He has more sense than we did at the age, so no, he hasn’t. He spends most of his time in the training grounds, of course.” Fitting for his children. Felix was spending more time there, so eager was he to catch up to his brother.

“Is he planning to follow in your footsteps as a Holy Knight?” Lambert asks. Rodrigue, as a noble, specializes in Lances and Riding but also uses Faith magic as well; his successes in the Annexation of Sreng was in part because of his lance wielding ability but also his ability to heal crowds of people after battle.

“I think his time with Felix and Cassandra have influenced him to pick up the Sword instead of the Lance.” Rodrigue answers, neither of his sons have adopted his use of magic, “Felix refuses to have anything to do with magic, of course, preferring to bludgeon his way through dummies and his friends.” 

“Somehow I can’t but feel that someone in that group needs to know magic just in case,” Lambert muses over the quintet that makes up their children. “Ingrid has her hands full just making sure Sylvain doesn’t get lost in his flirtations, El has been egging both Dimitri and Felix on to train with each other with her antics. Dimitri’s trying to make sure he doesn’t break more lances.”

“And Felix is trying very hard to not miss his brother.” Rodrigue finishes, grinning. “Between the five of them, it will be easy to implement your reforms.” Between Sylvain, Felix, and Ingrid, they’ll have the Northeast region of Faerghus to support the King secured. 

If Annette is anything like her father, she’ll be loyal to Dimitri as well but neither of them have met her. Lonato near the border has always been loyal. Rumor is that he’s adopted a small orphan boy and his siblings off the streets after the boy tried to steal a book from their library. He’s a good man, Lonato. 

Lonato has always been well-loved by his people because of his fair treatment of them. It’s easy to imagine him being in favor of better treatment for commoners.

Lambert grins with him. “Speaking of the one who we have little influence over, how is Sylvain? Margrave Gautier has officially announced that Sylvain will inherit his title over Miklan, but neither Dimitri nor El have said much about how Sylvain feels about it,” Lambert observed. Sylvain was 14, almost a man by Faerghus standards. Margrave Gautier was loyal of course to Fhirdiad, and he well-defended the border between Faerghus and Sreng. It was at his request that Lambert and Rodrigue started the Annexation of Sreng, but he was of a different generation of nobility than they were, almost a decade older than they.

He was the Tower of North, who led with the Lance of Ruin constantly at his side. His loyalty was never spoken outright but was everlasting.

“Neither Felix nor Ingrid have said anything but Margrave Gautier has made it known ever since Sylvain was discovered with the Crest of Gautier that he would inherit the title of Margrave,” Rogridue stated. “Miklan didn’t have much of a response, almost 6 years older than Sylvain but word is that he didn’t take it lightly.”

“It’s unfortunate what happened to Miklan,” Lambert says quietly. “But Margrave Gautier has the right to name his own heir and someone who has the Crest of Gautier can only wield safely the Lance of Ruin. And we need someone who can protect the border to the north.”

* * *

(The Day of the Tragedy of Duscur, 1176)

This is the day where Dimitri’s life changes forever. They’ve just departed from Count Kleiman’s castle for the Duscurian court. His father leads the way on his horse with Glenn as part of his Royal Guard by his side. He shares the carriage with El as they pass the time, telling each other silly stories. His stepmother Patricia is in another carriage near the front of the procession. They keep the carriage windows closed because while it may be spring; the winds are chilled. Dimitri has almost fallen asleep when the screaming starts.

El bolts awake, She slides the window screen just a crack to see what is going outside. Carnage and destruction. Fires rage on outside as men dressed in black systematically destroy the Royal Guard of Faerghus. El grips Dimitri’s hand so tight, it turns white from the strain. His father is riding around, trying to make sense of the chaos and the flames. His father’s horse is struck down. Dimitri runs.

“Dimitri!” El shrieks as Dimitri exits the carriage, picking up a lance of a fallen soldier and strikes down the figure who felled his father’s horse and was approaching his father’s slack body. Another figure, face covered by a bird-like mask with eye holes that show no eyes, raises an axe towards Dimitri, who moves to block it.

A sword cuts through the man as Glenn shouts and orders, “Dimitri, get back to the carriage!” He parries another blow, slicing his sword through his enemy’s neck, red blood splattering onto his clothes.

He looks at his father, unconscious underneath his horse. Activating his Crest of Blaiddyd, he pushes his father’s dead horse off him. Glenn tries to protect Dimitri from destruction, but there are so many of them. The Royal Guard was not heavily armed or armored. This was to be a diplomatic visit to Duscur. This was supposed to be peaceful. Another strike fells a figure who slipped through Glenn’s protective line. It’s El. 

“Get him to the carriage,” El says breathlessly, as she wields a heavy axe. Her eyes scanned the terrain, the battlefield. Fires rage in the vicinity, turning the once cool environment in a fiery hellscape. By some stroke of luck, their carriage is the only one that hasn’t been destroyed. 

Their horses are still tied to the carriage, however, they are panicking with the blasts in the area. “I’m not strong enough to get him there, Dimitri, but you are,” she yells over the din of the battlefield. “Glenn and I can cover you but we need to get out of here.”

So begins the slow process of dragging his father’s unconscious body back to their carriage. His father’s body is not cold; almost unbearably hot as the flames batter around them. His head lies slack over Dimitri’s shoulder.

“Glenn!” El yells as she covers Dimitri’s retreat. So focused was Glenn on defeating the surrounding enemies, he did not notice El’s entry into the battlefield. Most of the Royal Guard lie dead on the ground, slain by the secret attack. El whips quickly through any enemies that try to approach them, her body count rising by the minute. “Glenn!” She shouts again.

It’s a slow crawl, hauling his father back to safety. He lifts by slipping his arms underneath his father’s elbows, his long legs dangling behind. In front of him, he watches El protect him and his father from certain death. Step by step, he drags his father’s limp body back to their intact carriage, in the outskirts of the fighting. 

Glenn begins to fall back as well. His arms are slowing, he’s been fighting for at least twenty minutes. Glenn slashes and spins, slicing off limbs and cutting into chests. He’s no longer the graceful figure that Dimitri trained with. He’s only ten feet away when he falters as he looks back when he sees Dimitri pull his father into the carriage, his body half on the seat. 

“No!” El screams as Glenn is taken off guard and a fire blast catches him off guard and a second blow glances his side. She rushes out to face the approaching figures, who raises a lance against Glenn. A red light shines out. A shining crest appears next to El as she fends off the attackers and a blast explodes through the clearing as she smashes her axe into another of the black-cloaked men. Her long brown hair spins out wildly as she smashes her axe into the head of a masked attacker, blood splattering onto her hair, dyeing it red. 

Dimitri runs out towards her, taking Glenn’s sword in hand. He quickly sheathes Glenn’s sword in his belt and lifts Glenn up. He doesn’t activate his Crest this time, having spent most of his strength lifting his father’s dead horse off him and then carrying him back to the carriage.

Thankfully, Glenn is much lighter than his father as he is more slender, so carrying him back to the carriage is a much easier endeavor. He pushes Glenn’s limp body in the carriage with his father, looking back at El who is still looking at the ruined landscape around her. 

“El!” Dimitri yells, his voice cracking through the effort. Most of the attackers have focused their attention on the decimated Royal Guard. If there is a chance for them to flee, this is it. 

She looks back, hesitates as the flames burn around her. He sees her mouth something wordless as she looks back at the inferno. She shakes her head and takes off running towards the carriage; her axe in tow.

Dimitri readies the horses, ordering them to gallop away from the battleground as El leaps onto the back of the carriage, watching as the men they leave behind scream with death in their voices.

They ride hard for an hour, leaving the smoke and carnage behind them. They stop in the clearing just for a moment, one to give the horses a break and two to check on their injured passengers in the carriage. From the hard riding, Glenn and Lambert’s bodies lie on top of each other but it is clear that they are still breathing. Sweat drips down Dimitri’s brow as the adrenaline wears off and the cool breeze begins to settle in. El is in the same situation as the blood pools from her clothes onto the ground.

They sacrifice Lambert’s cape to staunch Glenn’s bleeding. It doesn’t appear that the wound is too deep but El is more worried about the burn marks that trail up and down Glenn’s sword hand. But they press on. More riding until nightfall, they don’t stop at Count Kleiman’s castle, they hardly know where it is. 

They follow the sun, racing against it in the background as it sets in the west. Even as night falls, they use the wolf star that shines brightest where Sothis is said to reside to guide their way home. They dare not to stop because who knows where those attackers came from.

Dimitri guides the horses first and then El as they take turns resting and driving the horses as hard as they can. Dimitri doesn’t ask about what he saw in Duscur, not yet. It takes two days of hard riding to reach Fhirdiad.

In the walls, only the quick bloodied appearance of Dimitri allows the wall guards to allow them entrance into the city. They meet Rodrigue in the courtyard of the palace after riding through the streets. Riding hard for almost three days, El and Dimitri are almost to the point of collapse. 

“Your highness!” Rodrigue calls out as they settle the horses down who falter from the exhaustion. They’ve ridden three days and two nights without much food or rest. It’s impressive the horses haven’t died from exhaustion.

Neither Glenn or Lambert have woken into those two days and it would be a lie if it didn’t bother them. Rodrigue has the servants carefully remove the bodies of his majesty and his heir to the hospital wing of the palace. He has the children taken there too to ensure no harm has come to either of them. 

Thankfully, there is no major damage other than cuts from the branches that struck their face as they pushed through the woods. He brings them food and water to sate their stomachs from the hunger that they felt. They give them fresh clothes and a bucket to wash the blood from their hair and faces. They stay silent as they clean themselves.

Then he begins the questions.

“What happened?” El and Dimitri sit side by side together on one the hospital beds. A curtain covers their view of Lambert and Glenn as the healers scramble.

“Someone attacked us,” El said in a quiet voice. “Dimitri and I- we weren’t paying attention but something ..happened. I don’t know who they were or where they came from.” Her voice stutters as she keeps her eyes closed, trying to recall the events of that day.

“We were in a carriage with each other,” Dimitri supplies, chewing his food calmly. He’s still in shock, the adrenaline finally wearing off after he guided the horses back to home. “Father was with Glenn, mother was in another carriage by herself-” He looks at El in shock. “We left her there.” His bright blue eyes meet her worn purple ones. “We-we left her.”

El swallows, wordlessly and nods. “We did...we left her.” A lone tear streams down her face as she clutches her fresh clothing tight in her hand. “Are Glenn and King Lambert going to be alright?” She asks, looking at the curtains that hide their prone bodies and the healers working on them.

Rodrigue grasps her on the shoulder, comfortingly, “I think they will, the healers did a quick check on them before starting their treatment but King Lambert only suffered a broken leg and hip and Glenn was wounded by a lance and has some burn wounds but it didn’t appear too deep.”

“..Then why did they wake up when we were running?” El questions, glancing back at him. “If it was just that, then they should have woken up,” her voice taking on a shrill tone.

“They didn’t confirm it,” Rodrigue responds gauging their response for a moment, “But when Dimitri said his majesty fell, I think he must have hit his head and in regards to Glenn, it may have been the amount of blood loss.”

Dimitri stares at him in shock and whispers, “I knew we should have stopped the carriage sooner,” he says back to El. “I was so focused on getting us out of there, I didn’t think to treat Glenn’s wounds until we got away.” His eyes begin to well up as he considers the possibility of losing both Glenn and his father. El winds her fingers into Dimitri’s hand, interlocking them. She looks away, towards the curtains but keeps her hand in his.

“Dimitri… if Glenn is going to die, it will be as a hero and I would have wanted nothing else for him. He will have died as a knight of Faerghus.”

* * *

(Four days after the Tragedy of Duscur, 1176)

It’s only been a day since Dimitri and El arrived in Fhirdiad, mostly safe. There are many rumors that the king has died and it is the Duscurians’ fault. It was well-known that the King and the Royal Family were planning to visit the Duscurian Court. 

Rodrigue is named as the temporary regent, as Rufus resides as Grand Duke of Itha, and calls for a meeting of the noble powers. Margrave Gautier sends his son Sylvain, who collects Felix on his way to Fhirdiad to council in his stead. If Sreng believes that Faerghus is weakened, this will serve as the perfect time to strike.

After some rest and more food, El and Dimitri sleep in the same room, too stricken by grief to even think of separating just for a night. Their hands enclosed in each other, Dimitri wakes first, nightmares of his stepmother haunt his mind. 

El wakes up only moments after as Dimitri’s shifting in the bed wakes her up. “Dima?” She says quietly, rolling over in her sleep. Her lilac eyes meet Dimitri’s. 

“I’m here,” Dimitri says, taking her hand back into his. “How are you?” He asks, mouth dry. He shakes off the sleep and exhaustion. His mind is clear, a first since they arrived in Fhirdiad.

“There’ve been better days.” El says with a slight scoff, getting up with him. 

“Agreed.” A pause but Dimitri knows he has to ask that question. “El, who are you?” It’s been on his mind since he saw it that day, her crest. He’s known that she wasn’t from the Kingdom. He’s known that she’s always been different from him. Any questions he has ever had for his step-mother and father have always been batted away. He understands that adults have their own secrets to hide and he hasn’t asked too many questions but this is one he needs to ask.

El pulls her hand away quickly, looking away. “Dimitri- don’t.” She presses her lips until they turn pale. ”Dimitri- don’t ask me that.”

“El, tell me please,” Dimitri begs, using both of his hands to grasp hers.

Tears well up in her eyes.“I’m Edelgard von Hresvelg,” El hesitates, tears welling up, threatening to drop. “’You saw the Crest of Seiros,” she confesses quickly, covering her mouth. She hasn’t used those words in five years ever since she fled the Empire with her uncle. “My name isn’t El, not really. I am Emperor Ionius’s daughter.” It’s freeing to say that, so long has she hidden by the name El, not even her mother or her uncle will use her name. It was once a treasured name for her family but now it only masks her identity.

Dimitri stares agape, in total silence. “Truly?” He asks, taking her hands back into his.

El nods. “Everyone thinks I died during the Insurrection of the Seven, my uncle stole me away when their forces captured the palace and had me hidden here,” she confides, rubbing her finger between the flesh of Dimitri’s thumb and forefinger.

“Why Faerghus?” Dimitri questions, his mind is reeling from the answer. He knew that she was from Adrestria as that’s where Von Arundel hailed from but to think that the Kingdom had one of the Empire’s heirs hiding in their midst.

“Your stepmother is my mother,” El answers breathlessly. “She was exiled when I was young and somehow made it Fhirdiad where she married your father, King Lambert.”

“Then-,” Dimitri gasps. “We left her.” Dread drops down his shoulders. He loved Patricia as his own mother but the knowledge that El lost someone just as important to her in the flames.

El shakes her head. “We did the best we could.” She replies, looking at the bookcase. “We didn’t have time to look for her.” She weakly smiles, continuing to shake her head.

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri apologizes somberly, glancing away. They were able to rescue his father but failed to save hers.

“It’s not your fault,” El soothes. She closes her eyes and confesses, “It’s mine.”

“What?” Dimitri looks up and meets El directly in the eyes. “What?”

“They destroyed every carriage except ours.” El points out, recalling the events of that day. “I’m not that good at fighting and yet I managed to escape without a single wound when men like Glenn and the Royal Guard were decimated by them.” She spat, venom in her voice. “They weren’t trying to kill me, not like King Lambert or Glenn. I think they know who I am and that I’m alive.” El surmises, pain in her voice. “It’s not your fault Dimitri, it’s mine,” she repeated, her purple eyes dark and fierce.

* * *

(5 days after the Tragedy of Duscur, 1176)

Felix leads the charge with Sylvain and Ingrid close on his heels. His father told him where Dimitri and El were after they first checked on Glenn and King Lambert. The shouting match that ensued between Felix and his father was one that Sylvain had sling Felix over his shoulder to force him to walk away as Ingrid was torn between staying by Glenn’s side and checking on them. Rodrigue nudges Ingrid to follow, and she does, walking away while looking over her shoulder as she stares at the stump where Glenn’s sword hand used to be.

Felix pushes the door to Dimitri’s room hard, slamming it open, waking its inhabitants. This time, instead of being curled into each other, Dimitri has his chest to El’s back and their hands are clutched tightly together in front of El. Both Ingrid and Felix flush red as they realize the two of them are sharing a bed and holding hands. Sylvain looks slightly impressed.

El curses when she wakes up and notices them. She shoves Dimitri off the bed in shock who lands gracelessly on the floor. 

“Ow.” Dimitri says dully. It was more out of surprise than pain and pushes himself off the floor. He waves to the others over the other side of the bed.

“Sorry.” El apologizes, pulling him back up onto the bed.

“Were you two busy?” Sylvain says with a crass grin on his face. Both of their faces flame red and both Ingrid and Felix elbow him in the sides and El throws a pillow at his face. 

“How are you?” Ingrid rushes to the side of the bed where Dimitri’s uprighted himself and sits on the bed with El by his side. “I can’t believe you were attacked!” They’ve heard eleven different tales since they arrived in Fhirdiad about how Dimitri pulled the dead bodies of the king and Glenn or how the entire Royal Family died in the attack. 

El and Dimitri look at each other grimacing. Dimitri shakes his head. “It’s hard to believe it’s only been a few days since it happened. It just seems like yesterday since we left Count Kleiman.” The others sit around them in a half circle as the two tell their tale of the true events of the tragedy.

El looks down, “We didn’t even make it to the Duscurian court,” she says mournfully. “Everyone-gone.” She shakes her head, her long brown hair swishing by her side.

“Not everyone,” Sylvain says comfortingly, patting El’s shoulder. He smiles and El smiles weakly back.

El swallows and nods, averting her eyes to the floor. 

“How is father?” Dimitri asks, “The last I saw of him was last night and the healers said he hadn’t woken.” He asks, they’ve been taken to the hospital wing for short visits just to see how they are doing but they haven’t woken up yet.

“Still the same,” Ingrid answers. “But-” Felix cuts her off, his red amber eyes flaring.

“They cut Glenn’s sword hand off,” Felix spat bitterly. “They said it was infected and too far gone to save.” There is anger in his eyes and he’s kept it simmered as he lets El and Dimitri speak about their experience.

“Oh Felix,” El apologizes. “I am so sorry.” Tears well up in her eyes as guilt begins to form, she can’t tell them about who she is, no matter how much she wants to. This was stressed to her by her uncle, her mother, and King Lambert.

“It’s not your fault!” Felix shouts angrily. “He’s alive because of you two, so don’t apologize for that. I-” he falters, “I’m not angry at you,” his voice softens, knowing his anger is misdirected. They got Glenn out. They kept him alive. “I’m angry at him, my father.” The word left his mouth like a curse.

“Then…” Dimitri starts softly.

“He said, he said something stupid,” Felix retorts sharply, pain in his voice. “Something like it’d been an honor if Glenn died by protecting the Royal Family.” He waves his hand angrily. “Some honor, dying like a fool on the battlefield.”

“But it would be,” Ingrid snaps. “Protecting someone you love?” She replies, “Is that not the greatest honor there is?” Her eyes have been red-rimmed ever since she heard that Glenn was hurt in Duscur. The thought of losing Glenn when she has spent almost four years imagining a lifetime with him.

“Okay,” Sylvain takes a step between them, having watched this entire time. “Let’s go get some food, shall we? I don’t think any of us have eaten since we got here.”

Despite Sylvain’s suggestion, none of them are able to stomach any food. They pick at some Daphnel stew, the food tasting like ash in Dimitri’s mouth. El looks around after pushing her food around with her spoon. “Where are the other lords?” She asks, looking up. “Why haven’t they come see Dimitri?” They haven’t left each other's side and there have been no requests to see the prince.

Sylvain blinks. “You haven’t heard? They’ve called a council, they’re naming the incident ‘The Tragedy of Duscur’. My father has sent me to represent him in the council.” He looks between the group, surprised that no one has heard this information.

“You?” Ingrid asks, astonished. “Why not your father? Or-”

“He can’t leave the border,” Sylvain scoffs. “Everyone’s heard about what’s happened already, Sreng will be looking at us like easy prey if they hear that-” He glances at Dimitri, pausing.

“If my father dies,” Dimitri says dully, finally pushing his food away, covering his head with his arms.

“They’re blaming the people of Duscur,” Sylvain says quietly, looking down. “Count Mateus and Kleiman are saying that the people of Duscur are like animals, waiting for his majesty to let his guard down to kill him.” He’s the only one between the five of them that’s been in the meetings. The coarse language of the nobles lashing out at the Duscurians shock him. If he ever used the words that he’s heard in the past few days, his father would threaten to cut his tongue out.

They look at him in shock, Sylvain shrugs. “My father ordered me to support Lord Rodrigue in his decisions and, no offense Felix, your dad’s a little busy right now and no one’s willing to listen to me because I’m fifteen.” Sylvain is almost a grown man but amongst the nobles, he is still seen as a young man. He daren’t fight against his father’s order to come to Fhirdiad. Also, he wanted to see Dimitri and El. He wasn’t missing this.

“What are they saying?” El asks appalled, face pale.

“They want justice for their majesty and anyone killed in the massacre,” Sylvain confesses, not meeting any of their eyes. “There are a lot of people angry, a lot of them had family in the Royal Guard, who are dead. They blame Duscur.”

El freezes, “Dimitri,” she murmurs. “You have to call for an investigation.”

Dimitri, who has kept his head down the entire time. “I-what?” He freezes, almost like a deer caught by a hunter.

“You can’t let this happen to them.” El responds, “You know where this is leading? Genocide of the Duscur people.” El states, looking him in the eyes. “You’re the crown prince, this council, they will listen to you if you call for an official investigation of the incident. You saw the people we were fighting, they weren’t Duscurians.” The people she mowed down were not Duscurians and to say otherwise would be a lie and a disaster in the making.

Sylvain edges a look at both of them, “Count Kleiman has already sent some of his men there, all they found was Duscurian bodies there.” He shakes his head, “It was a little crass but they brought back one of the corpses from there as proof.” He had almost gagged at the ruined, desecrated body that Kleiman retrieved from the scene. 

El slams her bowl down, angry. “Call for an official investigation, Dimitri. Or I’ll investigate it myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glenn and Lambert live because I am not good at writing sad stories. We'll see how the story changes with their survival. Writing is going well. I'm about 5 chapters ahead for posting and have 9 chapters waiting for edits. Thanks for reading!


	4. Part I Chapter IV

* * *

(7 days since the Tragedy of Duscur)

El doesn’t wait to hear if Dimitri calls for an official investigation. She doesn’t want to wait. She doesn’t want to hear it. She leaves for Duscur that same day on horseback with the axe that she used during the battle. She’s grown attached to it. She could let her grief over losing her mother stop her, like Dimitri has. But she has lost all ten of her siblings in four years and if she looks back, she is lost. She rides on.

It’s been over a week since the Tragedy of Duscur and it’s already too much time wasted. People move fast, she’s seen it. She passes the forest near Fhirdiad. 

“I cannot believe you left,” Sylvain says aghast when he catches up to her, almost three hours later.“Seriously? You almost died a week ago.” He wears a thick cloak and carries a small pack on his horse.

El states at him in shock, aghast. She blinks, meeting his red eyes. “I- Sylvain?!” She was expecting someone to come after her, she wasn’t sure but it certainly wasn’t Sylvain she was expecting.

“Come on,” he winks, “You think I’m going to let a pretty girl like yourself ride all by yourself. You must not know me that well, El.” He matches her stride, dodging her kick. “Dimitri’s upset that you left, you know.” He raises a brow. “I didn’t realize that you felt this strongly about the Duscur people.”

“This isn’t about them,” El mutters to herself. “This is about justice and the real perpetrators being caught.” She knew in her heart that her mother’s death was not the Duscurians’ fault. There was justice to be had. 

“I agree with you,” Sylvain answers. “Most of the nobles in Fhirdiad don’t right now, which is why I’m here. And not anyone else. Although I am concerned who’s going to keep Ingrid and Felix from killing each other while I’m gone.” He grimaces, they were at each other’s throats even in the midst of all this chaos and tragedy. Dimitri was in too much shock to stop them from going at it.

El shakes her head, “You should go back to Fhirdiad, Sylvain. This is a long journey.” She looks straight-ahead. She’s taken enough money from her saved allowance to cover any additional stays at the inn but for the most part, she intends to ride straight to the scene of the incident and sleep in a tent at night. It’s summer in Faerghus and the weather is temperate enough.

Sylvain shrugs, “Lord Rodrigue’s been informed of what the others have been planning and Dimitri did call for an official investigation so I think they have it handled and what’s more, Glenn woke up and he’s been saying the same stuff you were; that the people he fought weren’t from Duscur. That you guys were still a two days ride from Duscur and had just left Kleiman territory.”

“And his majesty?” El stiffens, hearing Glenn’s testimony from Sylvain. She’s overjoyed to hear that Glenn’s awake but if the King dies, Dimitri is going to have to grow up very quickly.

“Still unconscious but the healers are optimistic. His leg broke, probably from when his horse fell on it but his vitals are stable.” Sylvain rides by El’s side, an iron lance and a javelin tied securely to his horse. “If you just waited two hours, you could have heard this yourself.”

“This couldn’t wait,” El replies, distinctly. “Like you said, Duscur doesn’t have the firepower to even stand up against the full might of Faerghus, especially when they’re calling for heads. At the very least, they should be given a warning.”

“You’re not wrong.” Sylvain agrees calmly. “Duscur and Faerghus have been friends if not friendly for decades. Nor does Duscur have the strength to face Faerghus’s Royal Guard, the elite of the elite, even with surprise on their side.

But you feel very strongly about this.” Sylvain eyes El with a gleam in his eye. “Dimitri’s still reeling from what happened but you’re not. Patricia was your aunt or relative of some sort, was she not?”

El doesn’t answer him, not for a moment. “I told you a long time ago,” El begins, “That I once had several siblings. I don’t, not anymore.” Every letter that came with news of her siblings’ death pierced her and she couldn’t show anyone. Grief was an old friend for her, the loss of her mother did not sting as much as she thought.

They ride in silence until night falls and the sun begins to set in the trees. El stares at him, “Please tell me you packed a tent.” The pack on Syvlain’s horse doesn’t seem big enough to have any proper supplies.

Sylvain’s awkward silence tells all.

“If you touch me, I will remove a limb,” El threatens icily. She’s heard stories from Ingrid about Sylvain’s flirtations. She’s seen him in action in the capital. He will get a warning but nothing else. 

“I don’t touch someone who’s already claimed.” Sylvain raises his hands, stopping at a clearing. He avoids El’s eyes and already regrets his word choice.

“Excuse me?!” El’s voice gets shrill as she dismounts from her horse. 

“You know what, forget I said anything.” Sylvain disclaims quickly, jumping off his. Sylvain is at least half a head taller than her so it’s easy for him to avoid her gaze.

“We will discuss this later.” El states pointedly, as they tie their horses to a nearby tree. This will give them enough room to feed and graze if necessary. Sylvain goes to find firewood while El pitches the tent, keeping Sylvain’s lance close.

They’re in Dominic territory now and while El trusts Gustave and his family to keep his territory well-governed, she never strays too far from Sylvain’s iron lance. They switch weapons as Sylvain takes her axe with him when he goes to find wood.

Sylvain returns with a stack of wood under his elbow, her axe in his other hand. “This isn’t yours, right? It feels weighted all wrong.” He swings it around, testing its weight.

Blinking, El shakes her head. “No, I picked it up during the-”

“I thought so,” Sylvain tests the axe thoughtfully after he puts the wood down. “The standard weapon constructed by Faerghus is weighted perfectly, the blacksmiths in Fhirdiad are the best in the business.” He demonstrates this by pointing the axe out. “But of course, each Royal Guard has their weapons made specifically to their standards. Granted, most of the time they are lances.”

El stares at him in awe and in silence. 

“Felix likes to talk about weapons a lot.” Sylvain shrugs. Felix is a bit of a weapon fiend and is well-known by the blacksmiths in Fhirdiad. “I listen to him.”

He continues, “This is a shoddily made axe.” Sylvain waves it around. “No offense because I know you like it but there’s no way a trained blacksmith in Fhirdiad made this at someone’s request.” He flips it and puts down on the ground. El keeps her eye on that same axe that she plucked from a dead man’s body.

“I didn’t pick this up from a Duscurian’s dead body.” El states calmly, retreating to her memories of that day. “Which means-”

“Someone else was there.”

* * *

(10 days since the Tragedy of Duscur, 1176)

They finally reach the clearing where the royal procession was attacked. Only the dead bodies of the Duscurians and the members of the Royal Guard remain, the few carriages that were there strewned about the land and blackened trees frame the scene.

“Oh goddess,” Sylvain covers his face as the stench of dried blood and burnt flesh perfumes the area. It’s been a week but the smell still lingers. The clearing is filled with bodies and strewn carriages. This was not a battlefield but a massacre.

El stares, trying to conjure up her memory of the day. “This isn’t right,” she murmurs, striding into the area. Sylvain dismounts and quickly follows. He keeps his eyes trained on the outskirts of the clearing as El examines the area. She finds the indentation marks of where Dimitri and her carriage stopped during the fighting. 

“There were bodies covering the ground,” El describes and circles around where the bodies should have been, where she and Glenn made their stand while Dimitri carried his father back to the carriage. “This isn’t right.” She had killed at least five different men during the battle, all of them wearing the same birdlike mask and heavy black cloak. But none of their bodies were there.

Sylvain shakes his head. “Someone’s been here, other than Kleiman then.” From his report, Count Kleiman only found the destroyed carriages and the bodies of the Royal Guard and Duscurians.. He did not mention any strangely dressed men with bird masks.

“There were these men, wearing masks. They could use magic.” El says, “That’s how they got Glenn, a fire spell took him by surprise and knocked him over.” El looks over the clearing, the memory of Glenn falling to the ground and being pierced in the side by a lance stays in her mind.

“Strike two for not the Duscur people,” Sylvain mutters. “They can’t use magic very well.” The Duscur people were not known for their aptitude in magic. They were an agricultural nation, barely surviving in the northern Fodlan. He looks at El, “Let’s go find that third strike then.” Even though he trusted El and Dimitri’s word that it was not the Duscurians who attacked them that day, the evidence they were finding proved that at the very least, they were not guilty of the attack.

They search around the clearing, looking for more clues but finding none. Any bodies that aren’t from Duscur or the Royal Guard aren’t there anymore and El can’t find any of the figures wearing the birdlike masks when she knows that she and Glenn struck several of them down. They search until dark when the sun sets in the west but nothing is there to prove the Duscur people’s innocence.

“What now?” Sylvain asks when they regroup with their horses. He and El have spent hours looking for more evidence but nothing has been found. He’s exhausted by this point. They’ve been riding for at least two days with very little but anecdotal evidence to support them.

“We go north,” El commands, walking her horse away from the destruction. She’s never been superstitious but she isn’t sleeping anywhere near that place tonight.

“El?” Sylvain runs after her with his horse in tow. “We aren’t going to the Duscur court, are we?” He asks nervously, “Because I agree with you that it’s likely not the Duscur people who attacked you guys but still, there’s just two of us against an entire country.”

“I want to find that third strike,” El responds, looking forward. “Something’s not right here and you know it Sylvain.” Her conviction has been driving her for ten days; she’s not going to stop now.

He sighs, running his gloved hand in his red messy hair. “His highness and Lord Rodrigue are going to kill me,” he mumbles darkly. “What’s another night outdoors.” He trails after her.

* * *

(10 days since the Tragedy of Duscur, 1176)

“They went where?!?” Lambert asks Rodrigue, still in his bed in the hospital wing. Lambert would be shaking him if he could stand. The healers have diagnosed him with a concussion and a broken hip. He will not be able to walk without the assistance of a cane for the rest of his life.

Rodrigue closes his eyes, grimacing. “They went back to the place of the attack,” he said painfully. El had slipped out of the palace as he and the healers were monitoring the condition of Glenn after they removed his sword hand. “El wanted to see if she could figure out what happened. And Sylvain followed.” 

Rodrigue was still mourning his son, the son who would never become the warrior that he wanted to be. Felix’s hatred towards him for his poorly timed words did not help either. His mind was not intact when El made her rash decision to leave and Sylvain’s rash decision to follow after. No one was happy.

Lambert rubs his temples, cursing his step daughter’s desire and determination. “We were ambushed not more than a week ago and you just let her go? With Margrave Gautier’s son and heir?” He had just lost Patricia and now he could possibly lose Patricia’s daughter. His heart could not take it.

“The council feels that the blame for the ambush lies at the feet of Duscur, your majesty.” Rodrigue informs him hesitantly, the brutality in which officers of the council are calling for punishment unnerve him and Lambert just woke up. “El requested that Dimitri call for an official investigation to buy some time but some of the other members of the nobility are calling for….the removal of the Duscur population.”

* * *

(11 days since the Tragedy of Duscur, 1176)

It takes another day before they reach the small country of Duscur. As they go further north, the colder and colder it gets and by the end of the second day since they’ve reached the scene of the incident, she’s audibly shaking. She can almost feel her teeth clatter at mid-day.

Faerghus was colder than Adrestria that much was true but she had been in Faerghus for almost five years and had thought she experienced the winters here. But it was summer right now and a temperate climate in Fhirdiad.

Sylvain sighs and wraps his cloak around her shoulders. “Seriously, you didn’t pack for this properly? If the plan was to go north, then you should have brought the proper clothing.” The automatic warmth of Sylvain’s cloak helps her some as it weighs heavily over her shoulders.

El levels a glare at him, shivering. “If you’re suggesting I did not properly plan this, I suggest that you turn around then.” The cloak did help, El marveled at Sylvain’s ability to weather the coldness with what appeared to be an undershirt and a long shirt. She rubbed her arms, trying to ignore the chill and exhaustion in her body that had accumulated in the days of travel with Sylvain by her side.

“I’m not suggesting,” Sylvain said with teeth in his smile. “I’m saying that your planning of this excursion was subpar. You left with just an axe to go to a location where the Royal Guard was decimated. You didn’t tell anyone that you were leaving. You didn’t even dress properly,” he gestured towards her shivering figure and baleful glare. “We’re currently in a foreign country trying to prove that they didn’t try to commit regicide on our king.” He looks through the woods, gesturing through the thick patch of woods they were in. “Nothing about this screams planned well.”

El is stubborn. He’s seen her outstubborn Felix for goddess’s sake and Felix is extremely stubborn. He knew that she was stubborn but it seems to him that she might be the stupid kind of stubborn. The kind of stubborn who believes that her way is the best way and no one can come up with a better way. It’s not a good kind of stubborn. It’s going to get her hurt. 

A thump answers his lecture as El passes out from the long nights and cold weather. “Oh shit.” And he was right.

* * *

(12 days since the Tragedy of Duscur, 1176)

El wakes in a hut, surrounded by a warm blanket and...Sylvain. With a shriek, she pushes him out of the bunk, a violent thud entangled in blankets hitting the floor. 

Sylvain mutters and curses softly to himself. He rubs his back, massaging his sore rudely awakened muscles. “Good morning to you too.”

She clutches the thin blanket to her body, “Where are we? Why were we in the same bed?” She glowers at him, “Didn’t I threaten to remove a limb if you touched me while we slept?” She continues to barrage him with questions with no response until the hut’s door opens, showing a rather large Duscurian teenager staring at them. He’s tall with green eyes, tan skin, and white hair, features common with the Duscur population.

“You’re awake,” he surmised. “Glad to see you are both well. Your companion was quite worried when he first arrived,” he nods towards Sylvain. “Are you hungry? I’ve prepared breakfast for the village.” He dresses warmly, a thick shirt with fur lining and wool pants with boots. Other than his head, there is no part of him that is not covered.

“Oh, thanks!’ Sylvain grins warmly. He stares up at the large Duscurian teen from the ground, with little concern of his appearance. “Breakfast would be great.” 

“It does sound lovely,” Edelgard agrees with a strained smile, stealing a glare at Sylvain, who is not concerned at all. It amazes her how carefree he can be sometimes. 

“It will be waiting for you when you come outside.” The hut’s door closes as the Duscur teen leaves them. They are in a straw hut in a cot barely a foot off the floor. Several furs cover the cot and El marvels at how warm it feels in here compared to their tent.

“Sylvain!” El hisses, “What did you do?” She’s still wearing his cloak but has a fur blanket covering her now. Sylvain has another but she doesn’t like where this is leang.

“What do you mean what did I do?” Sylvain retorts. “You’re the one who fainted.” He had to haul her body back onto her horse, tie her hands onto her horse and guide it until he found the nearest village while she slept.

“I-where are we?” She asks quickly, dismissing his response. While she’ll admit she didn’t plan well for this _adventure_ , she’s not going to admit it to him right now.

“Some village in Duscur,” Sylvain replies, calmly. “When you passed out, I kind of panicked and looked for the first sign of civilization. This was it. Thankfully, they were kind enough to let us stay in a hut while you recovered,” He shrugs. At her aghast stare, “It’s only been one night, it’s not like you’ve been unconscious for long,” he frowns, worry turning his brow. “Why didn’t you tell me you were getting cold? I would have lent you my cloak a long time ago.”

El huffs turning her head away, “You didn’t say anything and I didn’t want to complain since I was the one who decided to go north in the first place.” The chill had affected her even at the scene of where they were attacked but she thought it was the memory of that day affecting her, not the cold weather that they faced going north.

“You’re joking, right?” Sylvain gawks. “El, I live in Gautier. It is the most northern part of Fodlan, I am used to this kind of weather,” he explains. “Fhirdiad is almost warm compared to that.” El has left the capital but they usually stopped near Fraldarius or Daphnel territory. She had never gone this far north before.

El frowns, compared to Enbarr, she considered Fhirdiad to be chilly even though she had spent almost five years there. It is home to her now. Anything colder than that was an unnerving thought.

Shaking his head, “Come on, he said the food was ready, let’s go eat. I’m starving.” Sylvain shakes off the fur blanket and shakes off the sleep as he lifts the tent door to allow El to go first as she is quick to follow.

They step into a small village, the only defenses there is a short stone wall. It is not hard to imagine a battalion of Faerghus knights crashing through the tents. El shakes off the image and follows Sylvain towards the natural center of the village. 

Young Duscurian children are playing and laughing with each other, chasing a small ball that is composed of a thick rope. It is a peaceful scene as the mist cools in the air and a small lake is in the outskirts of the village.

An older Duscurian woman smiles at them and spoons the food out of a large stone pot. El thinks if she wanted to, she could probably take a bath in it. It is suspended in the air with a metal rod and supported by two large tree trunks that keep it above a small flame.

The food is a thick soup with fish and different kinds of beans in it. El finds it delightful as does Sylvain who drinks two bowls of it. It warms her up even in the chill air of the morning. The mist still enshrines the village as the sun has not fully risen. 

“Were you able to eat your fill?” The Duscur teen asks, his green eyes stern but kind. El has to crane her neck to look up at him.

“It was delicious,” El commends; the fish was left in chunks and the beans floated in almost a thick chowder kind of soup. “You made it for the village?” El questions. It was hearty and filling, one of the better dishes she had in Faerghus.

He nods. “It is one of the chores I have in the village. I am glad you liked it. Excuse me.” He turns to leave but El catches him the sleeve of his long shirt. He is much, much taller than her but something about him has a calming presence. 

“Sorry,” she removed her hand from his sleeve. “I didn’t catch your name. I’m El,” she tilts her head. “That was Sylvain.” She points towards the tall redheaded figure of Sylvain, flirting with one of the Duscur girls with a sharp grin. The large Duscur teen tracks her finger to see Syvlain’s bright red hair standing out in a sea of white and grey.

“It is nice to meet you.” He reaches his hand out, she reaches for it gladly. His large hand swallows hers. “My name is Dedue.”

* * *

(12 days since the Duscur Tragedy, 1176)

They pack their stuff, getting ready to head further north. Sylvain forces El to wear his cloak even though it nearly touches the floor with her wearing it. She can’t help it, she’s short.

El wants to say thank you to Dedue for his food and his time. Sylvain wishes they weren’t heading further north to a potentially hostile court. They ask around the village for Dedue when eventually they get pointed to the home of the blacksmith. They find Dedue there, hard at work, smithing not a weapon but a scythe’s curved blade. El did notice that there were fields around the village, an impressive feat considering how much several parts of Faerghus struggled with producing enough food even during the summer.

“Hello,” he greets. “Are you leaving?” He raises his eyes from his work with a smile. He wipes sweat away from his sleeve with his forearm.

“Yes,” El says with a warm smile. “Thank you for your hospitality.” She bows in gratitude. Dedue was kind even to strangers who appeared at his village in the middle of the night.

“Actually,” Sylvain jabs El with an elbow. He brings out her axe from his side, she hadn’t even noticed him taking it from her horse. “I didn’t realize that you were a blacksmith but would you mind telling us about what you know about how this weapon was made?”

“Sylvain!” El hisses before Dedue interrupts.

Dedue strokes the handle of the axe before examining the metal blade part of the weapon. “My mother has not yet taught me how to make weapons but this wood….” He mutters to himself. “This does not grow in Duscur, the weather is too cold for it. This is made with Alder wood,” he runs his fingers over it. He looks at the two of them, “Most trees in Duscur tend to be Birch trees, you can only make farming tools out of a Birch tree, their wood tends to be white and they are too thin for anything else.” He explains shortly.

He shakes his head, “This metal as well. We do not have the tools to strike the metal out this thin.” He hands Sylvain the axe back and goes to the back of the smith. He brings back a finished scythe, the pale wood a marked difference between the tan wood of the axe. “This is how thin we can make our tools,” he shows them the blade of the scythe, a stark comparison with how thin the axe is. He looks at the two of them, “Is someone saying this came from Duscur?”

“I-” El looks to Sylvain for encouragement, he nods. “We are from Fhirdiad. Our king was attacked only a two days ride from here, we are investigating the attack.” She looks away in shame, “They are people who are blaming Duscur for the attack as the king was planning to visit the Duscur court. That axe came from the battle.” She lowers her chin to her chest, “We don’t think that it was Duscur who attacked the king but people are upset.”

“You think they mean to blame us.” Dedue says quietly.

Sylvain nods. “They are blaming you and your people but we have some evidence that it wasn’t your country. We just need more of it.” He takes back the axe from Dedue, handing it back to El with a cheap smile. She’ll get him later for this.

“Are there people in Duscur who don’t like the king?” El asks desperately. The evidence they have, the use of magic and the axe, wasn’t enough to prove the Duscur people’s innocence. There needs to be more.

Dedue shakes his head. “Not that I am aware of, but there has been an increase of attacks on the border however. Anger against Faerghus is building. Men from villages have been disappearing.” His face drops and he falters, “My father was one of those men with my cousin as well….They say it is the men from Kleiman taking them.”

El and Sylvain look at each other. “Kleiman?” Sylvain echoes. “Like Count Kleiman? Why would he?” Count Kleiman’s territories bordered Duscur, the place where they attacked was a natural grey area of territory as neither the Duscur Queen nor King Lambert wanted to define the borders of their countries on a map.

El wrinkles her brow in thought. “Kleiman,” she says out loud. Lord Kleiman had been vocal in his call for Duscurian punishment, his men had been at the scene of the attack before she and Sylvain were able to investigate. Lord Kleiman was not a rich Faerghus noble. 

He, like Count Galatea, struggled with the inability to grow enough crops in the summer to sustain his territory over the winter. He did not appreciate King Lambert’s call for standardized taxing rates for the nobility. He was not a wealthy noble either, owning one small castle near the border of Faerghus and Duscur; they had stayed there the night before they were attacked that morning. Their visit should have strained the Count’s ability to feed his people as did all court visits. 

El purses her lips together in thought. “If Kleiman is attacking Duscur and is trying to sow conflict between the two countries, it may not be best to visit your royalty,” she says to Dedue. She shakes her head, “If Kleiman is the one who attacked us, he couldn’t have done it alone. He doesn’t have enough men to raise a force big enough or trained enough to defeat the Royal Guard, even with men stolen from Duscur. Even if they took them by surprise,” she repeats, thoughts quickly whirling around in her head. Coming to a conclusion, she bows, “Thank you for everything Dedue, this was incredibly helpful.

We should head back to Fhirdiad,” she orders, turning to Sylvain. “I think we have enough to investigate Count Kleiman for the attack but we’ll need to tell Lord Rodrigue what we found in order to have his castle searched.” The evidence they did find is not conclusive but it’s enough to prove the Duscur people innocent of the attack.

However, the council’s natural biases will not trust the judgment of a Duscurian and their bloodlust will want to find someone, anyone guilty.

“I will come with you.” Dedue says quickly, putting away his half-finished scythe. “I know my people and I know the kinds of weaponry we can produce. I can show them that it was not my country that caused you such great pain.”

“Dedue, we couldn’t-” El replies awkwardly, “It’s not safe for a Duscurian right now.” Sylvain wouldn’t tell her what was said in those council meetings but she had a feeling about what was said there.

“This is for my country and my friends,” Dedue smiles stiffly at them. “You have risked much to prove my country’s innocence, I wish to only help you with it.” He was coming and that was final, no matter how they protested.


	5. Part I Chapter V

* * *

(12 Days since the Tragedy of Duscur, 1176)

Dedue joined them on their rushed journey back to Fhirdiad. All the coin that El had packed, she has given most of it to Dedue’s village to pay for the supplies. And to alleviate her hidden guilt. Dedue packs everything that Sylvain could ever think to pack, including an extra tent, more cloaks, some food, the scythe that he showed them earlier and more. He wears a hooded cloak to hide his features as El had mentioned earlier, the feelings towards Duscur were not friendly at the moment and he would hate for him to get injured in his quest to prove his country’s innocence. 

They stay off the main roads that they travel through back to Fhirdiad. No one wants to risk being stopped now. 

They ride past the scene of attack without a second glance, Sylvain is tempted to have them stop there for a second look but the decaying bodies of Dedue’s countrymen may upset him, especially if he finds his family there. He plays with the thought that it was Count Kleiman who ordered the attack on his own king.

His father doesn’t say much on the other nobles of Faerghus, far too focused on watching the border with Sreng. But he has scoffed at Lord Kleiman’s request for more aid alongside the border, claiming the Duscur people were a threat to his commonfolk. 

It may have been one village but Dedue’s village treated them very nicely, he’d even scored a kiss from one of the girls, which made him proud until Dedue informed him that was his younger sister. El promised pain with her glare. They stop at a nearby village in need of supplies and they have Dedue stay with the horses near the camp. 

They visit the local bar in search of a meal that they can bring back to Dedue. The food that they brought from Dedue’s village won’t last them the entire journey.

“Didja hear?” A drunk man bellows loudly. “The king lives!” A round of cheers echoed through the building as glasses bang on tables. “Those Duscur beasts can’t kill our king!” 

El and Sylvain stare at each other and step back slowly with their meal in their hands, heading back to camp quickly. They’re happy to learn that Lambert is alive, of course but the sentiment towards the Duscurians is still hostile and they can’t risk Dedue being seen. They raise their cloaks to keep their faces hidden. El’s brown hair is commonplace but the fire-redness of Sylvain’s hair is memorable.

“Good news,” Sylvain says. “The king is alive,” he tells Dedue when they reach the camp, handing him his food. “Bad news, people are still blaming Duscur.” The men in that bar were drunk and celebratory. It also meant that they could turn viscous in a moment. 

Dedue stays silent, chewing his food. Dedue doesn’t talk much. It might just be the fast pace of their travel but he’s kept silent on their journey back to the capital even while El and Sylvain debate the logistics of the Count Kleiman and his attack on the royal family. 

El pats Dedue on his hand as they sit. “We’ll prove them wrong, Dedue. We’ll make this right.” El likes him almost automatically, which Sylvain considers to be unfair. It took her two weeks to warm up to him.

Dedue shakes his head, “It is fine. I am happy to hear that King Lambert has survived.” He looks at the two of them warily. “Although, I am finding it strange that you two have the ability to walk into Fhirdiad and speak to the King, the prince, and Lord Rodrigue. Who are you?” They’ve only revealed their names to Dedue, not their identities. He does not know that Sylvain is the future Margrave Gautier and he does not know that El belongs to the Royal Family. Which makes sense because they should have guards when leaving the capital. But they don’t.

El swallows, in all her time in Fhirdiad, she has never given a last name. People know her as a distant relative to Patricia, the King’s second wife but she doesn’t want to lie to Dedue, someone who has trusted her implicitly and without a second thought of walking into a hostile country in order to prove his people’s innocence. 

“Sylvain Jose Gautier,” Sylvain says first. “My father is Margrave Gautier, the Tower of the North. I’ve known Dimitri, Prince Dimitri,” he corrects himself, “Since we were young.” Names are important he knows but he is not sure if his name means anything at all to Dedue.

“El von Arundel,” she says quietly. “I was related to the King’s second wife who disappeared during the attack.” She pulls her knees close, resting her chin on them. She looks incredibly small and young here and Sylvain wants to pull her close, even if El threatened to remove a hand if he touched her.

Sylvain stares at her. “We didn’t find her body there,” Sylvain mentions softly, it’s been two weeks since everything happened. If the Queen’s body wasn’t there and she hasn’t popped up since, it meant that she was most likely dead.

El looks away, “Dimitri,” she corrects herself. “Prince Dimitri and I didn’t see her and she was in a separate carriage than we were. We didn’t have the time.” She repeats herself mechanically, her light purple eyes blank and flat. “We didn’t have the time.”

“You were there,” Dedue surmises quickly, fascinated by the small and proud figure she imposes. “And yet you still want to prove our innocence.” There’s a look of fondness in Dedue’s eyes that is familiar, it’s the same one he sees in King Lambert’s.

“I was there,” El confirms. “Which I means that I know what I saw and who I fought and they were not men of Duscur.”

* * *

(15 days after the Tragedy of Duscur, 1176)

Felix is not happy. Sylvain left him to go play detective with El while he had to deal with his brother missing a sword hand, Ingrid and her stupid ideas of chivalry, his father and his stupid ideas of loyalty, Dimitri who was broken over his stepmother missing and his father’s broken leg and his father’s need to use a cane to get around, and King Lambert trying to control all the stupid nobles in Fhirdiad with a cane that he can’t just use to hit people with, his father included. He’s not happy. 

Sylvain said that he was just going to bring El back to Fhirdiad two hours after she left and he’s been gone for more than 10 days. Even if El was kicking and screaming, it should not have taken Sylvain more than a day to bring her back. She’s not that big and if Sylvain really wanted to, he could have just knocked her out and dealt with the consequences of her fury afterwards. Which leads Felix to his next conclusion, El convinced Sylvain to investigate her stupid theory. He curses Sylvain’s inability to say no to an attractive face.

But when El and Sylvain return, they are accompanied by a large Duscurian teenager whose name is Dedue. They kept him hooded until they were inside the King’s office because the tensions are palatable to say the least, even though King Lambert lives. The sight of a Duscurian in the capital could lead to violence and riots. Felix hears that Dedue is a blacksmith's son who could identify El's axe that she took during the massacre was not Duscurian. But even Felix's untrained eye can tell that the axe wasn't made in Fhirdiad. 

They are escorted to King Lambert's office where his father, Margrave Gautier, and the King are currently. Even Dimitri's not allowed in, which is a small comfort considering Glenn isn't either. El has an apologetic look on her face as she waves, small and dirty as they are. They are led there by one of the servants without the opportunity to say hello.

The emergency council of nobles is still in Fhirdiad but now that it is widely-known that King Lambert lives and is conscious, the urgency has faded. They haven’t been dismissed but they are still around just in case King Lambert needs them but the calls for Duscurian heads have died down except by a certain few nobles. 

No one knows what El and Sylvain discovered, only that worry casts their face in a dark gloom and a Duscurian teenager already built like a man is here. He appears to be roughly the same age as them but looms over even the tallest of their group, Sylvain.

If it weren't for the guards protecting the King's door, Felix is certain that he would find Ingrid and Dimitri pushed against the door, their ears trying to sneak any words they could get. Instead, they find ways to kill time at the training ground; Glenn has been training his right hand to be strong enough to write with. He jokes that now that he's lost his left hand, he'll have to learn how to fight with his right or get a replacement one. No one laughs.

Glenn's taken the removal well but Felix catches him struggling with simple things like eating, changing his clothes, or trying to open a door with his stub of an arm, as if he's forgotten his dismemberment. It's there where he sees Glenn almost cry, which he's never seen in his entire life. This makes Felix angry, Glenn has always wanted to be a knight of the Royal Guard and then Dimitri's own "Shield of Farghus". Knowing Glenn, he can train his right hand to fight as well as his left but it will be hard for him. This wasn’t right.

It's a long meeting, taking almost two hours since they entered the room. When they leave, El's eyes are red-rimmed and Sylvain is silent, not even a coy grin on his face for them. The King is stone faced as he leaves, limping away with his cane, his father and Margrave Gautier close by his side. Glenn is receiving post treatment for his hand and the burn wounds on his side.

After their meeting, they pull El and Sylvain into a side room, intent on interrogating them for all they're worth. El tugs Dedue with them, clinging to his sleeve as they slip through the halls and the bustle of the palace.

"So?" Ingrid asks, whirling on them. "What happened, what took so long? What did you tell the king?" Despite their closeness to Dimitri, they’ve been starved for information. King Lambert controlled the council but little information was coming out. 

"We got yelled at," Sylvain cheekily mentions. "A lot. By King Lambert actually but I think I'll be getting a lecture when I'm alone with my father." He rubs the back of his neck awkward as El stews in silence over their lecture. It was a very long lecture. It took them fifteen minutes to tell them what they found and the rest of it was being lectured on their poor decision making.

El looks at the door and then Dedue. "King Lambert will be launching an investigation in Count Kleiman, based on our findings. They will corroborate them with blacksmiths in Fhirdiad but my understand is that they will come to the same conclusions we did."

"Count Kleiman?" Dimitri echoes quickly, staring at El. "What did he have to do with it?" Count Kleiman has approached Dimitri once or twice to lecture him on his decision of calling a royal investigation. Felix chased him off.

El and Sylvain look at each other, “Shall we start at the beginning?” El asks tensely. Count Kleiman was a minor lord, who by all accounts should not have been attending the noble council but was invited because he was the last to see the Royal Family after they departed. 

Dedue requests, “Please.” The others look at him in shock, almost forgetting that the teenager who towered over them. It seems that even he doesn’t have all the answers. They sit in a circle, focused on El and Sylvain as they tell their story.

“The day that we left, I used El’s axe to cut firewood while we were on our way to the scene of the attack,” Sylvain starts, moving his hands quickly. “I noticed that it was incredibly unbalanced and not made to the usual standards of most blacksmiths in Fhirdiad.”

El shrugs, “It did its work fine but I had picked the axe up during the attack. It’s not one I used in Fhirdiad. Dimitri and I were unarmed when we were traveling to the Duscur court.” She looks at Dimitri, withdrawn and wane. “So it raised the question, where did the axe come from?” Her eyes flicker towards Felix, moody and quiet. “And...the reason that Glenn got hurt was someone used a fire spell to catch him off guard.”

Shocked, Dedue blinks. “We don’t use magic in Duscur. We can’t use magic.” The pieces in his mind begin to slot together as he reaches the same conclusion El and Sylvain did.

“Exactly,” Sylvain says triumphantly. “When we got the site of the attack, El mentioned that there weren’t as many bodies as she was expecting, disturbingly enough. So someone had messed with the scene clearly.”

“Which led you to Count Kleiman, how?” Ingrid says, incredulously. When El left for the scene of the attack, it wasn’t supposed to take Sylvain five days to bring her back. How they reached the belief that it was Count Kleiman who plotted the attack was beyond her.

“Kleiman had said that he had already sent men to the area to look for survivors,” El points out bluntly. “His lands were incredibly close to where we were attacked.” She says simply. “If it were actually the people of Duscur, they should have waited at least a day so they were closer and less in Kingdom lands, which means lower odds for survivors and escape.”

“The axe was not of Duscur origin.” Dedue says quietly. “We do not use Alpine tree wood when making weapons, it would mean leaving the safety of Duscur for wood to make weapons that we do not use.” He pauses for a moment. “There have been Duscur men disappearing from the village for over a year now. They go out to farm in the fields far from the village and are never seen again. My father and my cousin were one of the men taken.”

“Kleiman land borders the land of Duscur,” Dimitri echoes cautiously. “He was incredibly upset that I requested an investigation into the Tragedy,” he looks El in the eyes. “It would seem that he wanted me to act more rashly and be angry at the situation.” Count Kleiman was not at all subtle about the action he wanted Dimitri to take.

“I’m going to kill him.” Felix breathes, brashly and outright. He stands up sharply in anger. “He almost killed Glenn, for what, more land?” His eyes flame angrily. He can take that stupid old man down without retaliation.

“Oh no,” Sylvain yanks Felix back down to the ground. “We need him alive so we can prove him guilty. This is exactly what your father said you’d do but all the evidence we have is strong but incredibly circumstantial.” He remains calm even with all the insanity, standing firm. “They need to find more evidence.”

“Kleiman couldn’t have been working alone,” El states, withdrawn and exhausted. The force that attacked them and defeated the Royal Guard would have been more than Kleiman could have afforded. “The plan is to keep Kleiman here while an envoy goes to visit the Duscur court as originally planned. They’ll stop at Kleiman’s castle to see what papers they can find about the attack. Hopefully, they’ll find something incriminating or we may just have to go to trial and see what the noble council decides.”

“And if they decide there isn’t enough evidence,” Dedue asks. “If they decide that Duscur is guilty for the crimes of another, what happens then?”

* * *

(1 month after the Tragedy of Kleiman)

The castle of Lord Kleiman’s was searched, his office ransacked by the remaining members of the Royal Guard, who were angry at their comrade in arms death, searching for clues. They were confused as to why they were searching a Faerghus noble’s residence for clues when Duscur was only a two days ride away but letters began to show up. Several letters begin to show up.

Correspondence between Kleiman and other minor nobles who were angry at Lambert’s policies and the belief that he was beginning to infringe on the natural right of nobility to tax and govern their own territories. After all, the king was only as strong as the nobles who supported him, right? However, unlike the Empire, Kleiman underestimated the loyalty that the Faerghus nobles had to their king. 

Several houses, much bigger and stronger than Kleinman, were intensely loyal to their king. The noble council that had been called to lead the country in case of their king’s death instead cast judgement on a fellow noble who was summarily executed. Kleiman was executed as an example, the other nobles who conspired with him lost their position as nobles and either had the choice to go into exile or to provide any riches they had to Duscur and Fhirdiad and begin anew with their lives. This was mercy that King Lambert cast upon them, the noble council was more than happy to call for their lives. 

Surprisingly Dedue decides to stay in Fhirdiad. Lambert introduces his plans to the still independent country of Duscur. They absorbed Kleiman lands and agreed to increased trading and cultural exchanges between the two countries. Duscur receives weapons and magic training while Faerghus learns about fishing and growing plants in cold harsh weather. Despite Kleiman’s actions, ties grow stronger between Duscur and Faerghus. 

The King informs Dedue of his plans, where hopefully, Dedue’s reaction will be shared with the Duscur Queen.

Dedue teaches other nobles how to plant things like carrots, turnips, and other hearty vegetables that can grow well in the north and in the ground. He brings his sister to Fhirdiad with him to help teach and becomes well-known for his kindness and patience. He swears fealty to the Royal Family for their kindness and willingness to wait instead of attacking Duscur for misblamed crimes. He is named Dimitri’s vassal.

One noble who is also executed is Lonato’s son and heir Christophe. His letters are found in the bunch, collaborating with Kleiman to raise trouble in the southwest part of Faerghus. Due to his proximity to Garreg Mach Monastery, he is captured and executed by the Knights of Seiros. 

It comes as a surprise to everyone because Lonato has always been loyal to the Kingdom and Christophe seemed to be following in his footsteps as well. But such is the nature of rebellion and punishment. Also another noble found associated with Count Kleiman is Lord Charon’s daughter, Cassandra, steals the Heroes’ Relic and runs away, disappearing into Faerghus.

Although King Lambert lives, his physical impediments weaken his standing in Fodlan. Some find him weak for not executing all the nobles who were part of the Tragedy of Kleiman that claimed so many lives, including his wife’s, Patricia. Others believed that he should destroy Duscur regardless because of their existence on the Fodlan continent. King Lambert survived this assassination attempt but the fact his heir is still young and the nobles that support him aren’t as unified as it first appears does not bode well for Faerghus.

They were willing to stand behind him during the Tragedy of Kleiman but this tragedy is one that weakens his standing with the other nobles. Kindness is a mercy in Faerghus and one that should be earned. 

Of course, one could say the same for either the Empire or the Alliance. The Empire had the emperor turned into a puppet for the Seven and the Alliance nobles tended to blow whichever way suited them best. 

In the coming weeks after the truth about the Tragedy of Kleiman is revealed, Lambert receives a rare letter from Von Arundel, who he hasn’t heard from in years. The nobles who made up the noble council have returned back to their lands, shaken by the fact that one of their own was proven to plot against their own king. Margrave Gautier takes Sylvain back to his lands as does Count Galatea with Ingrid. Rodrigue stays in the capital with Glenn and Felix close by his side. Their group of six turns into an awkward quartet as Dedue enters the group only tangentially to El. Felix is still sensitive over Glenn and his injury as well as his newfound hatred towards his father. El and Dimitri are nervous around each other as El threw harsh words towards Dimitri before she left for the scene of the attack. 

Lambert has his hands covering his face as Rodrigue reads the letters silently, mouthing the words.

“She is not going back there,” Lambert says out loud. “I don’t care that Patricia is- gone, I am not letting that girl into the Empire’s hands.” Anger festers in Lambert’s eyes. This is an insult by Lord Arundel to ask so soon after his sister’s loss, one that he will soon not forget.

“Not even a word about his sister’s death,” Rodrigue sighs, shaking his head in disappointment. “The man only mentions his sister so he can take El back to the Empire, where she belongs- ha!” El’s recent actions and her determination to prove the Duscur people’s innocence has raised her stock in Rodrigue’s eyes and everyone who knows the truth about the Tragedy of Kleiman was revealed. He almost crumples the letter in his fist.

El, as a distant Arundel relative, does technically belong with Volkhard as her ‘distant uncle’ but the reality is she has been with the Kingdom for more than five years, she was established here. Ten of her siblings had died within five years of the Insurrection’s occurrence and neither of them felt that it was a coincidence. Even if El returned to the Empire and she would be named the sole heir to the throne, there were ten children dead in five years with no answers.

Rodrigue’s sources did not have an answer as to why they had all passed away in such quick succession but it was not safe for El to be in Enbarr. 

Lambert taps the table in thought. “I’m going to announce Dimitri and El as engaged.” He says suddenly out loud. “That way I can keep her in the Kingdom and she won’t go back to the Empire. She’ll be named as Patricia’s adopted daughter, as a Von Arundel, who she adopted while in the Kingdom and if she is engaged to Dimitri, she’ll be considered a member of the Royal Family.”

Rodrigue blinks, surprised at Lambert’s quick decision to their dilemma. “A little on the nose, don’t you think, Your Majesty?” Lambert’s suggestion comes as a shock to Rodrigue but seems to be too well-planned to be a split second idea, for Lambert that is.

“Von Arundel won’t dare tell the truth to the other members of the Seven,” Lambert replies, his brow furrowed. “Announcing that he kidnapped a child of the Emperor and had them taken to a foreign, potentially hostile country, who he left there, would be treasonous for him.” His face turns hard at the thought, “Von Arundel hasn’t seen El in over three years, I won’t let him claim her life.”

“When will you tell them?” Rodrigue asks quietly, their children had grown close together. Even with Dedue added to the mix, the six of them interacted with each other almost the same as they did five years ago. Although El and Sylvain’s actions had shocked everyone, it was chalked up to their gumption and impudence. Margrave Gautier was especially upset at the notion that Sylvain, his heir, had left Fhirdiad when he was sent with the intention of being part of the noble council.

“Soon.” Lambert answers, closing his eyes in thought. “I wouldn’t ask anyone this and I understand that Glenn with....his new limitations will take up much of your time but what do you think of having El as your ward until they reach time to go to the Officer’s Academy?”

“What?” Rodrigue stares at Lambert in bewilderment. “I thought the plan was to engage El to Dimitri?” Sending El away from the capital seemed to be opposite of what he expected from Lambert.

“It is,” Lambert confirms. “My second idea is to keep El in Fraldarius territory, far away from the Empire. It’s not that far from Fhirdiad but with all eyes on us right now, I think it might be best if El gets a little distance from it. She’ll be Dimitri’s intended but it might help if no one really knows who she is or where she went. She’s been hidden as Patricia’s distant relative but now that Patricia is gone,” he says bitterly at this point. “We need a place to keep her where the Empire can’t question where she is.” 

He looks at Rodrigue in the eyes, his blue ones glinting softly. “I trust you, Rodrigue, with all my being. I’d trust you with Dimitri too if I were gone but something about El tells me that she is going to be playing a very big role in Fodlan’s future with Dimitri and I need to know that you’ll teach her. We’ll announce the engagement as a way of securing Faerghus’s future but it would give me a great deal of relief if you took her to Fraldarius.”

* * *

(6 weeks after the Tragedy of Kleiman, 1176)

Lambert announces the plan to both Dimitri and El. Dimitri is shocked of course but knowledge of El’s real identity makes him acknowledge that at some point, she may not be safe in Fhirdiad with them. It makes him sad of course but Fraldarius is not far away from Fhirdiad. She could have been sent back to the Empire. The plan to have them engaged does shock him a little bit. He had been raised with El, not as siblings, but their close proximity makes him overly familiar with her. 

Although he does not remember his birth mother, they had not married for love or so he was told. His father did say that he fell in love with Patricia at first sight and Dimitri can’t say that he did with El either. But it’s not a love match but a political one. And so it goes, he knows he is lucky, he could have been engaged to a far off noble in the Alliance or the Empire, never meeting them until the wedding day.

El’s eyes flicker up and down, examining Lambert as he sits when he tells them their plan for the next couple of years. King Lambert has seemed drained ever since he lost her mother. He avoids her gaze. While El does not remember Patricia in the early years, she knew that Patricia loved her dearly. So much that she had her taken to the Kingdom when the risk of taking her may have cost her life at the time. 

The natural bond of mother and daughter did not seem to exist for them. Patricia could not embrace El as her daughter due to the political risk it would cause. Nor did El feel a particular connection to Patricia, they were separated when at a young age and thus she enjoyed her presence but there was no maternal bond between the two. But she showed affection in the little ways, gifting El small presents on her birthday and providing new clothes or weapons to her whenever she asked. She may be leaving Fhirdiad but she would not be leaving her memories of it behind.

* * *

(3 months since the Tragedy of Kleiman, 1176)

As foretold by Syvlain, as the year drifts further into fall, Castle Fraldarius grows colder and colder. El has spent most of her time training with Felix and Glenn as Glenn tries to remaster the blade with his other hand. His attempts at writing grow better and better, which Ingrid describes to El as charming. She shows Felix the letter who almost dies laughing.

“Teach me magic,” El demands of Rodrigue over dinner one day. The others pause in their eating. “No one knows in our circle will learn or want to know; Ingrid wants to become a Falcon Knight,” she waved her hand at Felix dismissively, “Felix and Dedue have no talent in it,” Felix scowls but does not argue. 

She pauses, choosing her words carefully before barreling on, “and I would not trust Sylvain to learn a brand of fighting that doesn’t involve trying to impress girls. So it falls to me to learn it.” Sylvain did impress her on their journey to get the truth about the Tragedy of Kleiman. Then he got chased around Fhirdiad by an upset young woman who had been flirting with before he went after El who did not take the time alone with another girl very well. Even if nothing had happened. 

Bemused, Rodrigue answers, “Well, I can hardly refuse that.” He begins weekly lessons to teach her both Faith magic and Reason magic, even though he favors Faith magic more. El favors Reason magic because that is his life now.

She and Felix train against each other daily, where Felix begins his training to become the Shield of Faerghus. Glenn was meant to be for Dimitri and El learns how magic interacts with the world and how to conjure it successfully. Glenn watches over them, learning politics and political maneuvering on a new level. 

House Mateus and House Gideon begin fighting over a land dispute that almost leads to bloodshed and Glenn is sent to defuse the matter, which he does flawlessly. 

The dynamics of the six of them begin to change. As Sylvain grows older, he takes on more and more duties of becoming the full heir of House Gautier. In 1177, Miklan is disinherited, not just as the heir of House Gautier, but from House Gautier completely. They never get the full story out of Sylvain about what happened but El has her suspicions. Miklan disappears but not without harsh words to Sylvain while he recovers. 

Felix and El grow closer as they train side by side, El begins to practice her healing magic when Felix pushes himself too far. Felix complains that her healing match burns too hot, El responds that it's her fire nature that keeps her warm in Fraldarius and to shut up or he can go to the hospital wing every day to recover with a lecture in tow. 

Although Glenn has been crippled by the loss of his hand, Ingrid still remains loyal to him. However, the head of House Galatea, her father, is worried that Rodrigue will disinherit Glenn in favor of Felix, who best serves House Fraldarius's interest as being a capable swordsman. He feels that perhaps he should have his daughter breaking the engagement and engaged to someone who can support House Galatea when it struggles. Ingrid yells at her father for two hours for even suggesting the idea. She never tells the others what her father was planning to do. 

Dimitri trains underneath his father to become a proper statesman, watches as his father passes judgment on issues that reach his ears. He communicates with both the Empire and Alliance for help to facilitate trades in Fodlan. The day that Gustave leaves his father's service and disappears is a sad one for Dimitri and El. They correspond by letter almost monthly, giving each other updates about their lives separated by distance.

Dimitri may remember his former teacher well but a series of letters from his wife to his father demanding an explanation of her husband's disappearance do not leave his mind.

That same year, Gustave leaves the Royal Guard- he leaves a note for his King, at his request, Lambert does not share the contents with anyone else but he does not agree with his decision. Annette, his daughter, sends a letter requesting any information he can provide for her. Lambert only points her in one way, the Garreg Mach Monastery.

In 1178, Sreng launches an invasion into House Gautier lands, Felix and Dimitri are both sent to reject the invasion. This is where Dimitri and Felix's relationship changes, Felix won't explain to El what he saw but he only refers to Dimitri as a boar, rather than his name. Dimitri's letters to El do not change nor do they explain what Felix saw. El curses the fact that as a lost princess to the Empire, she cannot be in the history books or be remembered for who she is.

That same year Godfrey, the heir to House Riegan the leader of the Alliance, had passed away in an incident. Dimitri prodded his father for further information on this issue, was this a Tragedy of Kleiman incident or El's siblings all dying in four years kind of incident? Rodrigue exhausts his connections in the Alliance for the information but no information is provided. It seems to be an unfortunate accident.

Of course, the Alliance is thrown into chaos because House Riegan has always been the leading power of the Alliance and Duke Riegan having no surviving heirs is a cause for concern for everyone. The Alliance prides itself on its independence but not having a tenured leader concerns everyone, especially with Almyra to the east. In 1179, an heir of House Riegan is found, his name is Claude and he is supposedly the grandson of Duke Riegan by Riegan's missing daughter who disappeared almost two decades ago in the night. Do people really believe him? No, but Claude manifests the Crest of Riegan, proving that he is at least of Riegan blood.

In 1180, the decision was made to send them to Garreg Mach Monastery. They've grown up to become the pillars of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus and the finishing touches will be done at Officer's Academy. El hesitates because there will surely be children of nobles from the Empire there as well but as Rodrigue and Lambert persuade, people think she is dead. No one would be looking at the adopted daughter of the dead Patricia von Arundel, especially if no one actually knew the relationship between Ionius and Patricia. Emperor Ionius did not publicize the identity of his mistresses. They get ready for the monastery. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 is completed! Part 2 is on the way and I'm almost done with it, almost two more chapters to go. Part 3 and 4 are currently being plotted out. Hope you enjoy it!


	6. Part II Chapter I

* * *

(28th Day of Lone Tree Moon, 1180)

On their way to Garreg Mach Monastery, Felix and El go to Galatea first to accompany Ingrid on their journey to the Officer's Academy. Since leaving Fhirdiad, El has stayed on the eastern side of Faerghus, visiting Sylvain and Ingrid often but never Fhirdiad. She can’t. Glenn comes along too, never missing a chance to see Ingrid. 

At age 17, Ingrid is beautiful. She has trained to prepare for their time at the Officer’s Academy and to follow in her fiance's footsteps since she was young. They all have. Much of her time is spent supporting her father leading House Galatea as his eldest child. 

Because of the Tragedy of Kleiman, things in Faerghus was more unstable as of late despite King Lambert’s survival. His older brother Rufus did not return back to his dukedom, he stayed in Fhirdiad, helping his brother rule. Dimitri has not been impressed with his uncle; he never says it out loud but it is evident through his letters. 

"That was embarrassing," Felix remarks, watching the figure of his brother looking mopey as he disappears into the distance. He’s almost embarrassed to say that they’re related. They all ride in the same carriage to Garreg Mach Monastery. 

In retort, Ingrid kicks his leg. While Glenn and Ingrid said their goodbyes to each other, it delayed their departure by fifteen minutes. It didn’t help that they snuck off somewhere leaving El and Felix to wait awkwardly by the carriage with Count Galatea. 

"I think it's sweet," El says supportively. At age 17, El is just as beautiful. She is the shortest of their friends, much to her frustration. Her thick brown hair almost reaches her waist that she keeps tied up with small purple ribbons, a keepsake from her sister Deirdre gave to her all those years ago. 

She hasn’t seen Dimitri in almost four years. She sympathizes with Glenn. "If Glenn wants to see Ingrid again, he must travel to Garreg Mach Monastery to see her and I doubt you wouldn't be upset if he visited either." She points out. "It's a long journey after all." Although Felix's relationship with his father has struggled, he has gotten ever closer to Glenn since everything that has happened. Felix has the same long black hair as Lord Rodrigue and Glenn, although it doesn’t curl like his father does. 

Felix just grunts in response, looking away. El smiles brightly, her long brown locks brushed away from her face. She is nervous about seeing familiar faces at the monastery, but it has been over four years since she left the Castle Fraldarius and its territory. King Lambert has done his best to keep El secluded and away from people he doesn’t trust. Lord Rodrigue had to argue for her just so she could attend the Officer’s Academy.

The Garreg Mach Monastery is almost a two-day journey from the County of Galatea, and she can only hope that Ingrid and Felix don’t kill each other as they stay in the same carriage. They are arriving a few days early before the academic year to familiarise themselves with the monastery and learn who their classmates will be. Duke Rodrigue has told them several stories about the antics he and King Lambert used to get into while Glenn described the curriculum they will learn there. El doesn’t intend to behave like them.

Yes, El thinks confidently to herself. What she will learn at the monastery is how to be great.

* * *

(2nd Day of Great Tree Moon, 1180)

Their group is part of the first wave to reach the Monastery. Some future members of the Golden Deer are already there, a Lorenz Hellman Gloucester who eagerly introduces himself to both Ingrid and El before Felix glares him away and a young girl by the name of Lysithea von Ordelia with shockingly white hair.

El is wandering the grounds during the mid-day to familiarize herself before everyone gets there. She spends her time examining the green-house, exploring the cathedral, and trying to get into the Goddess’ Tower, just to see what it looks like. She spent her mornings training with Ingrid and Felix, experimenting with the different axes that the monastery had in its armory. Felix stared at the vast armory for five whole minutes before Ingrid and El could get him to move.

There’s a young woman by the name of Mercedes von Martriz, whose family El recognizes as a former minor lord of the Empire. Their house had died out before she was born. She will be part of the Black Eagles.

“Mercie!” An orange blur runs towards the young blonde woman, tackling her. “I missed you!” El spotted Mercedes as she was walking about the monastery, heading towards the dining hall for her morning meal. Before the orange blur tackled her, she was going to say hello.

“Oh Annie,” Mercedes laughs, “It’s only been a couple of months since we last saw each other.” She looks fondly at the young girl hugging her. The girl’s shade of hair is very similar to Gustav, El notes silently.

“It’s been way too long since we graduated though,” Annie responds quickly. “I just got here from home, you’ll be in the Black Eagles house, right?” Her bright blue eager eyes smile eagerly as her two short pigtail buns bob. She looks a bit shorter than El. It’ll be nice to know that she won’t be the shortest amongst the Three Houses.

Mercedes nods, looking a little sad. “I am, I wish we would be in the same house though.” She smiles softly and squeaks as the girl pulls her in for an even tighter hug. El feels that she’s trespassing on a private moment and tries to edge around the corner, sneaking by them to go to the meal hall.

“Oh El,” Mercedes greets as she passes them. El smiles awkwardly and walks over. “How did you sleep?” Mercedes is sweet and friendly. El thinks she’s a little older than the average student but Mercedes doesn’t talk much, preferring to focus on others. 

“Well enough, you?” El responds, walking towards them. “Hello,” she greets Mercedes’s friends From a closer look, El can see the resemblance, if there is any relation to Gustave. They have the same bright orange hair and El thought Annette had bright blue eyes but instead, they match the cerulean blue-green of Gustave’s.

“Annette, this is El. She’ll be in the Blue Lions house too.” Mercedes introduces them both. Annette’s placement in the Blue Lions house further cements El’s suspicions. “Annie and I met at the Royal School of Sorcery in Fhirdiad,” she explains sweetly. “I was so worried that I’d be out of place there, but Annie became my best friend so quickly.” She smiles down at the younger girl.

Annette nods, “I convinced her to come with me to the Officer’s Academy,” Annette beams, her cheerful demeanor becoming even more clear. Gustave was not a cheerful man, but his description of his daughter was very accurate. “I’m just glad your adopted father let you come.” El didn’t realize that Mercedes was adopted, but it made sense, her presence in the monastery.

“Annette,” El tests the words out in her mouth. “Annette Fantine Dominic?” She edges, asking. It would explain the similarities of the hair color.

Annette tilts her head, curious. “Your father is Gustave, is he not?” El states, watching her face pale quickly, and then get excited. “I was at the palace when he was part of the Royal Guard,” she explains, clearly and calmly. “He was very kind.”

“Do you know where he went? He disappeared in 1177,” Annette says excitedly, shoving her face into El’s. El backs away. “I asked the King, and all he said was Garreg Mach Monastery so I was hoping he was here but I haven’t seen him although I’ve only been here for a few hours,” she trails off after saying a hundred words a minute. El’s head is still spinning.

“I wasn’t in the capital when Gustav left,” El backs away slightly. “I was very sad to hear that he left, however.” Annette deflates. “He was a good teacher.” Annette chews on her lip and scrunches her nose. El can see that she has light freckles on her face now. 

“Maybe he is here and you haven’t seen him yet,” Mercedes says hopefully. “It is a rather big place after all.”

She brightens, “You’re right, Mercie! I haven’t gotten this far without hard work.” She turns her head towards the dormitories. “Oh, I haven’t unpacked yet, I’ll see you two later!” She takes off back up the stairs to the higher level but still on the bottom floor of the dormitories, where El’s room is too.

El blinks suddenly, feeling almost like a hurricane of emotion, so shocked by the whiplash of energy hit her.

“That’s Annie for you,” Mercedes giggles by lifting a hand to her mouth, watching El react. “Always going somewhere. Were you going to get breakfast, El?”

El nods, “Do you want to go together?” She asks, turning her head towards the dining hall.

Mercedes agrees, “Yes, we can pick something up for Annie, she’ll probably be hungry after she finishes unpacking. She prefers sweet things, as do I. What kind of food do you like?” They walk past the fishing pool before going up the stairs to the dining halls. The food here is excellent. She can’t wait to show it to Sylvain.

“I like sweet things too,” El confesses. “Have you had the Faerghus Sweet Buns in Fhirdiad? Those were my favorite when we were younger. Still are, really.” The sweet buns that Glenn had introduced to her still had a fond memory in her mind. They were the first food that she had enjoyed when she came to Faerghus, but the news of Hector’s passing, her oldest brother, only soured that memory.

Mercedes beams. “Yes, those were my favorite,” she says dreamily. “Drizzled with warm honey,” she says wistfully. 

“I liked mine slightly glazed with sugar,” El confesses. Her sweet tooth was a common topic of teasing with Glenn and Sylvain. It outshined any of their food cravings, even Ingrid’s occasionally. 

“This talk of food is making me hungry,” Mercedes laughs. “Let’s go see what the dining hall is serving today, shall we?”

* * *

(5th Day of Great Tree Moon, 1180)

She’s introduced Mercedes and Annette to both Felix and Ingrid. She continues to spend her morning's training with her axe against Felix and Ingrid and then her afternoons talking magical theory with Mercedes and Annette. Mercedes and Annette show her a little of what they learned at the school of sorcery.

Rodrigue had floated the idea of having her attend the Royal School of Sorcery as she grew older to hone her use of magic but it was decided that although she could use magic, her talent with the axe was more important to develop. It was also best to avoid the capital.

More students arrive from the Alliance and the Kingdom. Ashe, the adopted son of Lord Lonato arrives from Castle Gaspard, his eyes eagerly taking in the surroundings of the monastery. Hilda, a girl with bright pink pigtails from House Goneril in the Alliance, strolls in looking bored and three different carriages behind her. Dorothea comes in with four different men staring at her as she walks by, long brown hair bouncing in curls perfectly. 

Raphael, a merchant from the Alliance, whose size would most likely rival Dedue’s. Leonie, whose calloused hands show evidence of a bow being used daily and practicality, has her waking before dawn. El knows this because her room is very close to Leonie, who sneaks in the greenhouse to see what herbage can grow in there. She’s had fun with Raphael debating on the best foods Fodlan offers. She can’t wait to introduce him to Dedue.

Only one of the new arrivals takes a second glance at El, his tanned skin almost a marvel compared to El’s empire pale skin. His green eyes flicker up and down her figure, smiling cheekily, as he introduces himself as Claude von Riegan, heir to House Riegan and the future leader of the Alliance. She watches as Lorenz puffs himself up compared to Claude, almost turning his nose down at his new house leader and classmate. 

El chats with Mercedes and Annette near the classrooms when a figure picks her up and swings her around, causing her to shriek in surprise. She sees the carefully styled blond locks and thumps the figure in the back, “Dimitri!” She yells, ordering, “Put me down!” She thumps him on the back one more time. They’re starting to attract attention.

Laughing, Dimitri puts her down and El inspects him. She kicks him in the shin. “Why are you so tall?” She demands, looking up at him. She barely reaches his shoulders at this point. Last time she saw him, she was barely shorter than him.

He shrugs, smiling. “I grew,” his eyes flicker downards. “You didn’t.” He dodges another blow. He has gotten taller, he looks more like Lambert than ever before. She spies Dedue waiting over on the side, and she waves at him to come over before looking back at Dimitri.

El scowls, her face glowering. “Did you just get here?” She inquires, looking at his polished appearance. Dimitri is much taller. He also resembles King Lambert, keeping the same bright blue eyes as his father. She must do something about his hair. He’s already wearing the monastery uniform with the royal blue cape that indicates his status as the house leader of the Blue Lions.

“I did,” Dimitri says congenially, “Dedue and I rode down here. It took us nearly four days. We went through Charon territory to make it here.” They embrace quickly, squeezing almost four years into one hug. She intertwines her fingers for a moment, reaching behind his back.

He turns to Dedue, “Come Dedue, I know you’ve missed El.” Dedue walks over slowly to them and he is much taller than she expected. They’ve exchanged small notes over the years, Dedue isn’t much of a writer.

If Dimitri looms over El, Dedue almost towers over her. She barely reaches his chest and almost has to crane her neck to look at him properly. Dedue has changed little since they first met, only growing much taller. 

“Why aren’t you upset at him? Dimitri asks, questioningly, looking between the two. She would never hit Dedue like that, it’d be like hitting a teddy bear. An extremely large teddy bear.

“Dedue was already tall,” El points out. At 14, Dedue was the tallest amongst them all, even compared to Glenn, much to his chagrin. At 18, Dedue is the size of a fully grown extremely tall man. “Good to see you, Dedue,” she beams at the grim-looking teenager, who bows back. He spares a small smile for her.

She glances back at Mercedes and Annette, who were watching the interaction with interest. “Where are my manners,” El shakes herself. “Annette, Mercedes, this is Prince Dimitri and Dedue. Dimitri, Dedue, this is Annette, she’ll be joining us in the Blue Lions House, while Mercedes will be in the Black Eagles House.”

Dimitri bows from his waist. “It’s nice to meet you both,” as Dedue does the same, only taller.

“Nice to meet you too finally, your highness!” Annette greets, “Not that I have tried meeting you before,” she stumbles over her words. “I’ve just heard a lot about you,” she attempts again, smiling brightly. 

At Dimitri’s confused look, El steps in. “Annette was Gustav’s daughter,” she mentions their old teacher in Fhirdiad. “He told her about you,” she guesses. Gustav talked a lot about his daughter but never much about his family, only Annette.

Mercedes curtsies, “It’s good to meet you too. I look forward to seeing you both around during classes.” She keeps her gaze low, not meeting Dimitri’s eyes.

Dimitri’s gloved hand encircles El’s pale white one comfortingly as he smiles at the two other girls. “Help me unpack, El?” He asks, grasping tightly with his fingers. His palm is much bigger than hers, almost swallowing her hand.

“I’ll see you two later.” El says apologetically, looking at Dimitri. She walks away with him towards the dormitories, their fingers still entwined, glancing over her shoulder at Dedue being left behind stoically with them. 

When they get into a more secluded area, Dimitri pulls El in quickly, embracing El again. He pulls her close and wraps his arms around her body tight. “I’ve missed you,” he mumbles into the juncture where her neck meets her shoulders.

Her arms loop around Dimitri, her fingers barely touching over the broadness of his back. “I’ve missed you too,” she says breathlessly, a result of Dimitri’s tight squeeze and her excitement at seeing Dimitri since so long. 

He presses his forehead against hers, delightfully looking into her purple eyes with his cobalt blue ones. “It’s been too long,” he breathes quietly, “since I’ve seen you.”

She brushes a lock of his hair away from his eyes. “I’m here now. We’re here now, are we not?” Dimitri pulls her hips close, his hands fitting around her waist easily. El smiles, her head leaning against his chest. 

“Yup!” Sylvain claps, surprising them as they jump apart, bright red. “We are.” He grins playfully, “It’s good to see you both too, your highness. El,” he nods. “Do I get a greeting like that?” He asks, slyly. She’s seen Sylvain more than Dimitri in recent years, but he’s grown to be something of a playboy. Apparently, in the three days he’s been here, he’s already been on one date. 

Frowning, “Yes, you can.” El snarks right back, “You can find Felix in the training grounds,” ensnaring Dimitri’s hand into hers, she jerks her head towards the far end of the dormitories. Her face burned; Sylvain did not need more material.

Grinning, “Good to see you El, your highness.” Sylvain laughs, walking away, jauntily. Of the five of them, El has seen Ingrid and Felix the most. Dimitri and Dedue stayed near the capitol, and Sylvain had to be near Gautier Territory. His father was grooming him to wield the Lance of Ruin once he graduated from the Officer’s Academy, according to Lord Rodrigue.

“He’s the worst sometimes,” El mumbles to Dimitri quietly once they are by themselves. Sylvain is handsome and worse, he knows it. Ingrid told her she foresees a school year of cleaning up after him, as usual.

“He’s Sylvain,” Dimitri responds, resignedly, “I think he’ll always be like that.” He takes her hand back into his. Dimitri has started to wear thick black gloves since she last saw him.

“Did you really need help to unpack?” El asks, walking with him towards the dormitories. Fimitri wasn't the sort to over pack. He wasn't the type to have his room messy either. His room would be organized by tonight. Dimitri shakes his head, wrapping an arm around her waist..

“I can handle it by myself,” he replies, eyes drawn forward. “I was wondering where your room was.” He states.

Tossing her brown locks behind her shoulder, “I’m on the first floor, next to Annette. I’m tucked away behind the stairs, I like it; it’s secluded,” El explains, relaxed, they keep walking, passing her room and the greenhouse. 

“We’ll know most of the Blue Lions students,” El says in step with Dimitri. “The only ones we won’t know well will be Annette and Ashe, and they both seem nice. Ingrid mentioned that Ashe really likes those old books she used to read to me, like _Loog and the Maiden of the Wind._ Annette is looking for Gustave, I believe.” Annette seems to think that he has been hiding in Garreg Mach Monastery but she hasn’t seen anyone that resembled her old teacher.

“You already know so much,” Dimitri nudges her with his shoulder. “Perhaps you should become a spymaster too,” he says teasingly. 

Rolling her eyes, she responds, “I’ve been here for a few days and they’re friendly. Annette went to the Royal School of Sorcery so she uses magic and I think Ashe mentioned Lonato teaching him how to use a bow.” She likes to talk to people, to learn their likes and dislikes. It’s the best way to get to know someone. 

“We will be a powerful house then,” Dimitri admits. “It is good to have variety in our ranks.” Being from Faerghus, their house will dominate with lances. She and Dedue will use axes, and of course Felix has his swords. 

El hums in agreement. “Most of the Black Eagle house has yet to arrive,” she responds, she meets him in the eye. “They’ll be specializing in magic,” she remarks. “Some of the Golden Deer house is already here,” pausing for a second as they go down several steps. “I’ve seen Duke Riegan’s heir, Claude. He wasn’t what I was expecting.”

“Oh,” Claude’s voice interrupts, “And what were you expecting?” He asks brightly. He looks at their intertwined hands, assessing Dimitri. “You must be the crown prince, Dimitri.” He reaches out his hand to shake Dimitri’s. “I’m Claude von Riegan of the Golden Deer House.”

“Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd,” Dimitri bows, bending at the waist. “It’s good to meet you.” They cut contrasting figures. Claude’s messily tousled hair and relaxed body language is a sharp contrast to Dimitri’s coiffed straight hair and his stiff posture. El narrows her eyes. 

“Two of the three house leaders,” Claude ventures. “I wonder where the third is?” He smiles brightly at the both of them. He’s not wearing the yellow cape that will mark him as the leader of the Golden Deer House, but he will soon.

El clears her throat, trying to not let her jealousy and anger encroach. “That’ll be Ferdinand von Aegir, I don’t believe he’s here yet.” When Lord Rodrigue broke the news that Ferdinand was named heir to the Empire, El cried for two days. Felix never found out what made her so upset. 

“Not of House Hresvelg?” Claude smiles at her brightly, which stings a bit. “This will be an interesting year yet, we’ve got the Crown Prince of Faerghus here, the future Emperor, and of course, me, future leader of the Alliance. I didn’t know that Garreg Mach Monastery can hold so much power,” he jokes. “I’ll see you two lovebirds later,” he winks and walks away. They watch him until they can see him no longer.

El watches his leaving back, frowning tightly.

“That was Duke Riegan’s heir?” Dimitri inquires, “He seems… cheerful. Reminds me a bit of Sylvain,” he remarks blithely. In the half week Sylvain has been at the monastery, he’s already set up two future different dates with two different girls, much to Ingrid’s chagrin. 

El nods, “I haven’t talked to him very much. I think he spends most of his time in the library.” They continue their walk around the monastery grounds.

They arrive at the bridge that connects the church to the main part of the monastery. “We’re finally here,” Dimitri murmurs, overlooking the mountain range where the monastery lives.

“We’re here,” El affirms, glancing at him. The mist still fogs over the valley, reminding her she is in a whole new world, different from the two she first lived before Garreg Mach Monastery. “How is the king?” She asks, she hadn’t seen the king or Dimitri ever since she was sent to the Fraldarius Dukedom but she exchanged monthly letters with Dimitri all that time and every couple of months, Lambert would send another letter as well with the same owl.

Dimitri grunts, bracing himself on the bridge. “He is well enough but since the massacre, he has slowed some,” Dimitri replies. “I worry for him now that I am here but father said that there has never been a King of Faerghus who has not attended the Officer’s Academy since the creation of the Kingdom, so here I am.”

El hums in agreement, taking her hand into his, lacing them together. She smiles wistfully as they continue their walk around the grounds.

* * *

(8th Day of Great Tree Moon, 1180)

So the monastery is kind of boring, Hilda realizes after only being there for a few days. Classes have yet to start, thank the goddess, but there isn’t much to do at the monastery. She thought she would be grateful to be away from the Alliance and Goneril territory and all the people who dearly admire her brother, yet being here is kind of worse.

At home, she could always wear whatever she wanted but at the monastery, they have uniforms. They aren’t ugly per se but they are boring. She can’t give them her usual touch. She sees the modifications that other students give them but they’re just so plain. Not Goneril approved, Holst never mentioned this when he attended the academy. 

Most of the students her year have already arrived. Most of the Black Eagles students haven’t arrived yet, as she has heard. They are arriving in one procession together. It’s probably an attempt at a demonstration of power and unity for the Empire against the other two houses. The monastery is supposed to be a place free of Fodlan politics but even that encroaches the monastery. 

The people in the Black Eagles House were rumored to be the children of the Seven. The children of the nobles who stripped the Emperor much of his power. There was hope in the Alliance that would mean better trade terms for their merchants, but business continued as usual in Fodlan. All the Emperor’s children died. But that’s neither here nor there.

She even heard that they had the Princess of Brigid there, as when Brigid surrendered in the wake of the Empire decimating Dadga and submitted themselves as a vassal state, and she will be part of the Black Eagles class. 

In complete opposition to the Black Eagles and the Blue Lions, she’s never met most of her classmates either. Even her own class leader, Claude, likes to make a joke out of everything, sniffing out Lysithea’s fear of the dark in two days of being at the monastery at night. Most of them are kind of boring, to be honest.

Lorenz won’t stop talking about women, nobility, and noblewomen in the same breath, and he makes Hilda want to gag him. She’s seen Raphael inhale an entire stew in like a minute. Ignatz has said little about how much he wants to be a knight, with little enthusiasm. She’s never heard Marianne even say a word. Leonie judged Hilda for using three carriages for just her clothes and shoes. She needed them if she was to be at the monastery for an entire year.

For the Blue Lion house, most of the members have known each other since they were children, which Hilda thinks puts them at an unfair advantage. Dimitri, their house leader, seems like the standard noble which is to say completely boring and the only remotely interesting feature is that he’s been engaged to the same person since he was 14. She’s spoken to his fiancee occasionally, and she is stiff as well, smiling politely as Lorenz hit on her a second time. 

Ingrid is plain but pretty and would probably be gorgeous if she wore makeup, but Hilda’s constantly seeing her leave the training grounds with another Blue Lions classmate by the name of Felix, who is constantly grumpy. Sylvain seems interesting as he flits around the neighboring town, setting up dates with different girls, much to the shame of his other housemates. Whatever, Hilda just needs to survive this year with the minimal work done as possible and it’ll be a breeze.

She’s examining her nails when she hears the murmur of voices staring at the procession of the newest students. Led at the front is an orange haired young man, who’s carefully styled hair is actually quite impressive. He wears the monastery’s uniform and a bright red cape. He’s accompanied by another man whose dour appearance promises pain and death if spoken to. The sigil of the Adrestrian Empire arrives with a soldier carrying in the back, meaning the Black Eagles house have finally arrived at the Officer’s Academy. 

Followed behind him a tired looking young man with his dark green hair tied behind him with a ribbon and another with light blue hair almost pointed up like a small mohawk. Finally, a girl appears in the procession, her dark maroon hair braided tightly and small facial tattoos, meaning she must be the princess of Brigid. Then capped off with some men carrying a screaming, moving bag of someone that they dump on the floor with little care. A small girl pops her head out with purple messy hair. Her eyes widen when she sees everyone and shoves her head back into the sack. 

Perhaps the Black Eagle house will be stranger than the Golden Deer house then.

* * *

(9th Day of Great Tree Moon, 1180)

When Hubert first sees her, it is as if he sees a ghost of a figure. But she’s here and alive in front of him. His emperor, Edelgard von Hresvelg lives, hiding behind the name of a girl from the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Her uncle, Volkhard von Arundel, had sworn to his father that Edelgard died during the Insurrection and Hubert has never forgiven his father for betraying his Emperor for power and killing the one to whom Hubert swore his life. He won’t forgive him, regardless.

But here she stands, living and breathing. Her eyes meet his, a glimmer of recognition flickering through them, and she looks away. She pulls her hands behind her back as she continues chatting with another member of the Black Eagles, Mercedes von Martriz. She keeps looking back at him, running her hands through her thick brown hair until she excuses herself from the conversation, and jerks her head over to the side. 

They walk into the night, slipping into an empty courtyard until they are completely and utterly alone, illuminated by the moon.

“Lady Edel-” He begins, but she interrupts him. She doesn’t seem real. She looks up at him, unblinking.

“You cannot call me that,” she hisses at him, whirling around. “You cannot say that name, Hubert, ever.” Her light purple eyes dart back from him to the side as she paces quickly. “Edelgard von Hresvelg died during the Insurrection,” she states plainly. “I am El von Arundel, adopted by Patricia von Arundel in the Kingdom where she was exiled. That is all I can ever be.”

“You are meant to be Emperor,” Hubert snaps back. “You are not to be some king’s consort but to rule a country that has stood for more than a thousand years.” He pales, running his eyes over her body. “Have they bewitched you? Last I saw you, all you wanted to be was Emperor.” She looks healthy, she wears her hair slightly pinned back with purple ribbons, similar to ones she favored in their youth.

“I am happy, Hubert.” Edelgard reveals to Hubert. “I am happy,” she repeats. “I was nine last time you saw me,” she tosses her hair behind her. “I did not realize the sacrifices that would have to be made to become Emperor.”

“Like?”

“The death of my siblings?” She retorts quickly, “All ten of them gone?” She lowers her gaze. “What happened to them,” she pleads. “Why are they all dead?” She sobs, her voice thick with grief.

After Edelgard had disappeared in the fires of the Insurrection, Hubert’s father had him taken back to his territory. It was expected that he would rejoin the oldest son, Hector, to become his loyal vassal, but instead Hubert waited, for months seething in the dark. It was announced that Hector passed away in the months following the Insurrection. 

The cycle continued. No one saw the children for months until they surfaced, exhausted and sometimes half-insane. Or sometimes dead. Then by that time, all ten of them were dead, and the Emperor was without an heir. 

“I do not know,” Hubert confesses, looking away in shame. All the research he had done had led nowhere. He dare not ask his father for any answers, the coward and traitor that he was. He swore to be the vassal of Ferdinand von Aegir, a mere shadow of the Emperor that Edelgard would have become. “Does it matter?”

Edelgard narrows her eyes. “It does to me.” She swallows, her throat tight. “Ferdinand is the heir, I am believed dead.” She states defiantly, eyes blazing with anger. “That is how it will be. Hubert, if you care for me at all, you won’t say my name.”

* * *

(10th Day of Great Tree Moon, 1180)

During a lull during the day, Dorothea eats a meal with El, Prince Dimitri’s intended. Perhaps it is just people from Faerghus, but El strikes her as someone is incredibly regal, almost like a character in her opera. They dine on some vegetable pasta salad, which Dorothea enjoys as well. She almost looks like a character from an opera, with only part of her thick light brown hair pulled up and her bangs framing her face. She looks fit to be the Queen of Faerghus soon, Dorothea muses.

El’s light purple eyes flicker up to Dorothea, “Do I have something on my face?” El asks after Dorothea realizes that she was studying her for far too long.

“Ah no,” Dorothea denies. “Just lost in thought.” El seems to care not that she dines with Dorothea, who is a mere commoner, and while El may be a commoner in name, her close ties with the nobility of Faerghus tell a different story.

“You are Dorothea Arnault, famed opera singer and the lead of the Mittlefrank Operatic Company in Enbarr, are you not?” El asks, pushing her food away after finishing.

“You’ve done your research,” Dorothea smiles. The Mittlefrank Opera is famed in the Empire, but she doesn't know how it is regarded in the rest of Fodlan.

“Thank you,” El pulls her cup of Bergamot tea closer to her if Dorothea guesses correctly. Nobles and their teas, Dorothea muses, it’s as if they cannot feel properly noble without it. “Have you ever performed for the Emperor?” El inquires, leaning in. “I heard he is not one for public appearances.” Her light purple eyes watch her curiously. She wants to know the answer to this.

Dorothea leans in as if sharing a secret. “Once or twice,” Dorothea answers. “I heard before I came that he used to come much more with his children but when they started passing away- not so much.” She’s performed for him before and he looks like a sad old man. The opera never turns him away of course, he’s the Emperor and he helps keep them well-funded with a donation every year. 

El pushes a lock of hair behind her ear. “I see,” her eyes flicker to the side as if someone catches her train of thought. “... Does-does he look happy?” She asks so quietly that Dorothea thought she misheard. She moves her finger around the rim of her cup, steam still wafting away from it.

Weird question, Dorothea muses to herself, but she’ll humor this strange girl. The rich suitor she’s looking for may hail from the Kingdom of Faerghus. 

“Well, he certainly looked tired when I saw him but he is the Emperor after all, how could he be anything but happy?”

* * *

(12th of Great Tree Moon, 1180)

Of course, Dimitri being Dimitri, he hosts the meeting of the Blue Lion House in the Training Grounds. Although most of their house does spend a lot of time there, which as always includes Ingrid, Felix, Dimitri, El, Dedue, Ashe, and Annette. So basically everyone. Sylvain doesn’t know Ashe and Annette that well, but they seem to be easy-going people, which is a nice change compared to the ones he knows. 

Their first mission will be an excursion outside of Garreg Mach Monastery in the woods near a village called Remire that technically lies in the Adrestrian Empire but is close enough to Garreg Mach that it escapes most’s notice. Ashe favors Bows and Lances, wanting to become a Paladin like his adopted father, Lord Lonato of the Gaspard territory that borders the Adrestrian Empire. Annette is from House Dominic, a small territory in the northwestern part of Faerghus on the other end and she uses both Faith and Reason magic as well, having studied it at Fhirdiad’s Royal School of Sorcery. Her appearance rings a bell back in Sylvain’s mind, which he easily dismisses. 

Dimitri requests that they pair up together in order to train and learn more about each other, a difficult request when six of the eight members of the Blue Lions House knew each other before they entered the Officer’s Academy.

El easily sidles up to Annette, who Sylvain spied earlier chatting away, pulling her away to discuss the use of Magic. Felix wrote that El was learning magic from his father, but only the basics. Dimitri, he notices, joins up with Ashe to speak to him about his use of a bow in combat.

Clever tactic by them both to divide and conquer the two members unfamiliar to them. Sylvain shrugs and strolls up to Dedue with an expectant smile on his face. “You and me?”

Dedue nods, stiffly. “It is greatly appreciated,” Ingrid and Felix had paired off already. Dedue uses gauntlets and axes if he remembers properly and Sylvain’s been training with a lance since he could walk so he could properly wield his family’s Relic the Lance of Ruin with ease when the time was right.

The knights that come from Faerghus are proud of their Lance fighting skills, having originated from legend, from Loog, the King of the Lions. As has been reiterated by his father, it gives them superior reach and accuracy, however, their defensive flexibility is not as easy and it is harder to fight multiple combatants at once. 

With and often being paired with a mount, either a pegasus or a horse often means that they can stab their opponent and quickly retreat if necessary while not sacrificing their reach. They spar with ease as Dedue softens his blow in order to make sure he does not break the training lance Sylvain wields. He hasn’t seen Dedue since they all separated after the Tragedy of Duscur, but the Duscurian has all but sprouted, standing heads and shoulders above the rest. In comparison, El and Annette look diminutive next to him.

A light flares as Annette summons a Wind spell for El, aiming it at a training dummy, quickly shredding it with her spell. El smiles appreciatively as she conjures a Fire spell that is clearly not as big or powerful as Annette’s.

“How long have you been training with my father?” Felix snarks derisively. He’s been watching them out of the corner of his eye.

El tilts her head, eyes flashing as Ingrid edges away from Felix. They’ve both been on the receiving end of El and Felix’s sharp words. “Well…. it was either learn how to blow things up or let you go to the healers every single day, Fee, so I don’t know, I guess I had my priorities.” She smiles, teeth sharp. “If you wanted, I could have tried to heal your wounds without the proper training, and made something explode if I wasn’t careful.”

Felix stops dead in his tracks. “What.”

“Oooh, Mercie’s explained this to me,” Annette gushes. “When using a spell like Heal in combat, if you’re not careful, you have the chance of over-healing the wounds and making it explode with too much magic.” She looks far too happy at the prospect. “You have to be extremely careful with your control when using magic.”

El nods in agreement, “When teaching me magic, Lord Rodrigue described it as trying to thread a needle. He wanted me to learn precision before power, which I certainly wasn’t used to.” She explains, “I was trained to fight with an axe. It’s pretty much the farthest thing from precision fighting.”

Annette agrees animatedly. “You cannot believe how many things I made explode at the Royal School of Sorcery. I think the first time I summoned a Wind spell successfully, I almost cried. Mercie definitely cried.” 

“Rodrigue had me learn the basics of Faith magic before I moved onto anything else. It was hard,” El admits forlornly. “Pretty sure I have a weakness in Faith magic but Lord Rodrigue never let me give up.” She looks at Annette, pleasingly. “Shall we continue?”

* * *

(12th Day of Great Tree Moon, 1180)

Ashe is pretty honored that Dimitri has chosen him to train with in their first house meeting. Lord Lonato has always spoken highly of the royal family, and if Ashe wants to be a knight just like Lonato, he must work hard at the Officer’s Academy to make it up to him.

Dimitri first watches Ashe draw a bow, hitting a target in the outer rings. He draws his own first, almost pulling it with ease, but his target is way off. Dimitri frowns and then chuckles. “You make it look easy,” he admits, putting down the bow.

Ashe nods eagerly, pulling back another arrow. “I was a small kid when I was younger, so Lord Lonato thought it best if I tried using a bow and arrow first. As I grew bigger, I could try using a lance, but it’s a good thing I stuck with a bow, huh.” While they hail from the Kingdom of Faerghus, there are 3 lance users in their house, compared to one sword user, two magic users, and an axe user in Dedue. 

Dimitri shrugs, “We all have our talents and it never hurts to expand our abilities. When the time comes, I will need to learn how to fight with a sword so I can become a proper Lord.” He looks at Ashe warmly. “I was a small child too, and the lances I used dwarfed me in height. Someone thought I was a girl wielding the lance. Certainly got more handy with them as I grew taller.”

“It’ll be good,” Ashe agrees. “Annette, El, and I can stay in the back and pick off enemies while you and the others can take on our enemies outright.”

“Actually El may be in the front lines as well,” Dimitri confesses, looking over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t listening. “She’s quite stubborn and has never been good at staying away from the front lines. She’s good with an axe, though. She only learned magic out of necessity, truly. Helped cut down on infirmary visits whenever we were overzealous with our training.” 

They watch as El blows up a training dummy with a Fire spell, the flames dancing away. He pats Ashe comfortingly on the shoulder. “We will get your lance training Ashe or whatever training you desire. The Blue Lions will not be a house that leaves people behind.”

* * *

(20th Day of Great Tree Moon, 1180)

This was supposed to be an easy excursion to Remire Village, only a day away from Garreg Mach Monastery. But of course it wasn’t. Despite the show of unity displayed by the Black Eagle students when they arrived at the Officer’s Academy, there had been uptick of banditry in the Adrestrian Empire ever since the Insurrection of the Seven. They knew that just as long as they stayed near the monastery; they were in a murky grey legal area that neither the Empire or the Church of Seiros wanted to address. The church could operate in the Alliance and the Kingdom with little concern, but in the Empire, things were different.

Chaos was rampant as the students panicked and fled. Even one of their teachers, who was supposed to be leading them, bolted away, screaming. They were on their own.

Claude was on the side, sniping off any bandits that got too close until he noticed one cornering Lysithea and Marianne, one of his own. Lysithea summoned Miasma, dark wisps forming around her as she launched her spell at the bandit who brushed it off easily.

“Hey!” He shouts, aiming an arrow at the bandit’s hands. He knocks the axe he was brandishing out of it. Lysithea throws another Miasma at the bandit, knocking him off his feet and takes Marianne’s hand and flees with her in tow.

The bandit whirls on him, a snarl on his face, his prey having fled from him. The bandit shoves himself off the floor, giving chase towards Claude.

“Oh boy,” Claude takes off with the bandit fast behind him. He runs away from the scene with the bandit in close pursuit. Stupidity must be in the air tonight as he takes off with a bandit behind him, only wielding a bow. El follows behind once she strikes another bandit down from approaching the purple haired girl from the Black Eagles House. She gives chase, close behind.

The bandit groans in pain and topples to the floor. It was five minutes of running and Claude stopped in his tracks, turning around towards the bandit. El stands triumphant over the bandit’s unconscious figure. She clutches her axe close to its head, using the butt of the axe to knock him out. She looks up at Claude, squinting at him. 

“Thanks Princess,” he jogs over to her, “Much appreciated. Save the lecture, please.” Claude didn’t seem to realize that she was following them. He was just planning getting enough distance between him and the bandit and seeing if he could strike him down with an arrow or using his bow to bludgeon him.

“Well,” she sniffs. “Just as long as you know how foolish it was to go alone.” She swallows, looking around just as she seems to realize how far away they are from their camp. They gaze back the way they came, wondering the best way to get back.

“El!” Dimitri’s voice calls out through the woods. They both turn towards the voice. “Claude!” Another voice chimes in. Looking at each other, they take off towards the sound of the voices.

“Dimitri!... Ferdinand.” They meet up with the other two house leaders, who had chased after them. Claude hasn’t talked to Ferdinand much, having only arrived a few days before they left for the training excursion.

“This was foolish, El.” Dimitri states quickly. “I can’t believe you took off like that.” His brow furrows as he regards her in concern. He looks her over, dusting off some dirt off her sides.

She jabs her thumb at Claude. “He needed help, and he took off by himself first.” Claude could admit that. Having another person was a lot better than being alone.

“We should get back to the others,” Ferdinand said nervously. “The bandits will still be out there.” The heir to the Adrestia Empire glances around the darkness, keeping his lance close to him. They keep their eyes out for other students who strayed from the fray or bandits giving chase.

“As long as they’re together, they should be ok.” Claude answers, “I’m more worried about us.” As if on cue, they hear the stomping of a bandit clan angrily making their way through the forest.

Claude and El take off running, grabbing Dimitri and Ferdinand by the scruff colored capes. They’ve been spotted.

“There they are!” They hear the thunderous roar of a bandit clan giving chase. They pick up the pace, stumbling through the forest, their path lit by the bright moonlight. They are severely outnumbered and outclassed, regardless of how much extra training they’ve put in.

“Shit shit shit shit shit,” Claude curses as he keeps up with the other three, bow in tow. At least they’re armed. It could be worse.

They kept running, much longer than the initial run Claude had to do when he ran away from the main camp. Breathing hard, El grabs Claude by his yellow cape to duck behind a thick tree trunk, hiding from the bandits. They’ve cleared enough distance that they can hide but they can’t run much longer. They’re already too far from the camp. Ferdinand and Dimitri have hidden behind another thick tree. She peeks around the corner of the trunk, ducking when she sees them storm past.

“Classic,” El mumbles to herself, peering around the trunk once more, watching them stumble away. “I get stuck with three people who stick out like a sore thumb at night,” referring to their capes. She is wearing mostly black and could blend into the shadows if she wanted to. The three house leaders have brightly colored capes that gleam in the moonlight. “Are you all right?” She asks Claude quietly. If they’re going to face the bandits, they need to be at full strength, if Claude is injured, he needs to tell her now. 

“Other than being terrified, sure.” Claude replies amicably. She carries her axe in one hand as she waves to get the others’ attention. “We should probably find everyone or….”

“Or?” El glances back at him. She keeps a careful eye on their surroundings. 

He points over the dim lights of a small village nearby. “We could ask them for help.” Her eyes follow his as hope lights up in her. Perhaps they’ll survive the night after all.


	7. Part II Chapter II

* * *

(20th Day of Great Tree Moon, 1180)

El looks up gratefully at the mercenary figure they met at Remire Village. Byleth had saved her so calmly, placing themself in front of the bandit who had launched himself at El when she thought him unconscious. “Thank you,” she murmurs gratefully to the silent mercenary. They nodded at her as her partner joined them. 

“El!” Dimitri yells once more, pulling her up from the ground where she fell. She had let her guard down, thinking that the last of the bandits were unconscious. It was a mistake that she wouldn’t make twice. He pulls her in close, breathing in her hair. He squeezes her tight as if to make sure she is still alive.

“Dimitri,” she pats him comfortingly on the back. “I am fine,” she turns her head towards Claude and Ferdinand who join them in the clearing. “Thank you,” she says once more to Byleth and Jeralt, curtseying. “We are most grateful.” 

She keeps her eyes low, running her eyes over these two mercenaries. Ferdinand hands her the axe that she dropped in the excitement; she chose to wield a Fire spell in those last few moments, catching the bandit off guard with her magic. She used the last of it to knock the bandit down but not unconscious, it seems. 

“You should be more careful,” Jeralt says gruffly to Byleth and El. “These bandits can be no joke sometimes.” He slings his lance back onto his horse as he keeps his eyes on the surroundings.

A loud thunder comes from the eastern part of the clearing as Alois bellows loudly, “The Knights of Seiros are here! We'll cut you down for terrorizing our students!” He notices the remaining bandits flee the scene as they realize they are outnumbered with Knights of Seiros in the area.

“Hey! The thieves are running away. Go after them.” He compels the Knights under his command. He runs up to their little group, running his eyes over the figures of the young men and women. “The students seem to be unharmed.” He remarks, pleased and when his eyes catch onto the figure of Jeralt, “and... who's this?” He brightens as he recognizes the grizzled older man.

“Oh no,” Jeralt says to himself under his breath. It seems the two know each other and well. 

As Alois and Jeralt quibble over his return to Garreg Mach Monastery, El examines the others. Despite her life being in danger just moments ago. She never said that she made good decisions. “Do you require healing?” She asks Ferdinand, who is clutching his upper right arm as blood seeps through his clothes. She didn’t see Ferdinand get injured in the battle, but if he was, he kept silent when he was wounded.

“Please.” Ferdinand smiles gratefully, El’s eyes flicker examining him. She has stayed away from Ferdinand as Hubert recognized her the moment he laid eyes on her.

It doesn’t seem that Ferdinand may not remember her, but she met him while they were younger at a ball celebrating Astrid’s eighteenth birthday. She was six and dressed in an impossibly poofy dress with her brown hair neatly braided into a crown. He spent summers in court after that and they shared a love of the operas at Enbarr.

He was loud and extraordinarily proud, even at the age of six. He proudly showed his dancing abilities with her older sister, Elise. It’s been almost a week since he first arrived at Garreg Mach Monastery with Hubert and the other Black Eagles but he is not like the boy that she met all those years ago. He still wants to do good but is less boastful, easily taking off his thick uniform shirt and cape to allow El better access to his wounded arm. He does not bluster his way through the healing, as she would have expected from him when they were younger. She wonders if he recognizes her.

She brings up her flask of water that she keeps belted to her to clean up the wound. Ferdinand winces as she makes sure there is no more blood or dirt. She calls up a Heal spell to her hand, and raises her palm to his arm, watching as his skin knits back together from a bloody cut he had. All that really remains as evidence of his wound is the dried blood smearing his arm.

Byleth watches them silently as El continues healing the wound. Despite her weakness in Faith Magic, Rodrigue made sure that she was an excellent healer before he let her attend the Officer’s Academy. It was one of King Lambert’s requirements.

Jeralt pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Come on, kid,” he pats Byleth on the back. “We’re going with them.” Plans interrupted, El had to guess. But how was Jeralt related to the Knights of Seiros?

El was only listening with half an ear focused on their conversation. But it appears the man is Jeralt Eisner after all, one of the most famed mercenaries in the land of Fodlan. He was the Blade Breaker, undefeated and whose mercenary band had failed no job he took.

* * *

(21st Day of Great Tree Moon, 1180)

Alois informs them that they evacuated the other students immediately back to Garreg Mach Monastery and his group were sent out once they realized some of the students were missing. Marianne and Lysithea holed up in a tree, Ingrid, Sylvain, Felix, and Dedue had somehow teamed up and patrolled the area outside of the camp, and Bernadetta was hiding in a bush. 

When they couldn’t find the house leaders, panic set in. They heard the sounds of battle and rushed in, finding the felled bandits and the former leader of the Knights of Seiros in Captain Jeralt Eisner, the Blade Breaker, who had disappeared from the monastery in less than ideal circumstances almost twenty years ago.

El learns of this by hanging back and eavesdropping on Alois and Jeralt’s conversation. She’s talked to Byleth a little, but they’re no open book for sure, their emotions staying flat mostly except in battle.

Ingrid informs her of this when they return to the monastery, when their class grills them for information with Ingrid and Dedue leading the charge. Byleth was pressed into service by becoming a professor of one of their houses as the other absconded in fear when the bandits attacked. El can’t hope that they’ll choose the Blue Lions selfishly. It was impressive how they held themselves in battle and El can hope that they’ll teach her the same ruthlessness in combat.

She sees Byleth flit around the monastery talking to the other students, and she almost freezes when they come up to her and Sylvain. She had been lecturing Sylvain about flirting too much with the village girls; Girls who immediately suspected her and Ingrid of being the ‘reason’ why Sylvain couldn’t see them for a date. 

That immediately ended when it was revealed that they both had fiances, both more serious than Sylvain was. Ingrid was waiting for the moment she had to pull Sylvain out of a sticky situation. 

“Well, well! It must be my lucky day today, being approached by such a beauty.” El elbows him in the side and he chokes out, “I'm Sylvain Jose Gautier. Feel free to say hi whenever you like.” He continues grinning, ignoring El’s sharp elbows.

“Don’t mind him,” El smiles weakly. “Feel free to ignore him.” Byleth nods and waves as they recognize her. El keeps herself from watching the new Professor leave; she can’t look, it’s not right for her, especially with Dimitri on the grounds. But Professor Byleth is so very attractive and she can’t help herself from sneaking another look at them.

“What was that for?” Sylvain asks, massaging his sides. This elbowing thing has been happening far too often for his liking.

El flushes red, a blush manifesting deep in her chest. “I would like to make a good impression on people without you flirting with everyone you see.” Lady Rhea had requested that they keep Byleth’s identity a secret as she learned about each class to get to know them a bit. 

She wrings her hands a bit, digging her fingernails into her palms. The thought of being on the wrong side of that bandit’s axe still lingers in her mind.

“Hey, you doing ok?” Sylvain reaches for El’s hands once he notices her drawing blood. The bright red blood stands out against the pale white of her palms. She wasn’t wearing her gloves right now but she should put them back on. 

El blinks and summons a quick Heal spell for her hands. “I’m fine,” she answers back, running the warm energy swiftly. “What happened yesterday… unnerved me is all.” She could have been dead if it wasn’t for Byleth. She lost focus, lost concentration when the battle was over. She wouldn’t make that mistake twice.

Sylvain frowns, releasing her hands once the warm energy proved to be a little too warm. “You sure? You’re not getting flashbacks to, you know, the Tragedy, are you?” He had been there with her to scavenge through the bodies of those who died at the Tragedy of Kleiman. He honestly almost puked while he was there, but what happened yesterday was not the first combat situation El had been in. 

El brushes him off. “I’m fine, I’m alive, aren’t I?” El tosses her hair over her shoulder after flashing him a confident look. She raises her chin but Sylvain is reminded how small she is, seeing as how she doesn’t even reach his shoulders. 

Sylvain shrugs, putting his hands over his head. “Whatever you say, El.” He’ll get the answers out of her later. 

* * *

(27th Day of Great Tree Moon, 1180)

Having that bandit attack on their encampment was scary for Annette, while she went to the Royal School of Sorcery much of the work was theoretical and at the Officer’s Academy, it looks like it will be most practical. Byleth, the mysterious mercenary, chose the Blue Lions house to lead, and she’s pretty overjoyed like the rest of her classmates. She knows their new teacher’s fighting ability impressed Dimitri, so she’ll probably know how to whip Annette into fighting shape. Magic, she has down pat, but if she wants to wield Crusher in the future and in the field.

But first, Professor Byleth chooses her and Mercie to have a meal in the dining hall, a Two Fish Saute, which sounds pretty yummy. Up in Faerghus because it’s often hard to raise things like cattle and pigs up in there, they tend to rely on fish heavy dishes and this is one of them. 

“Today’s dish was so good,” Annette stretches feeling a little too full. She didn’t mean to eat so much but having that Two Fish Saute was almost like being at home. When the Duscurians taught Faerghus how to farm, they also taught them how to cook.

“Do you have room for dessert?” Mercie asks her and the professor. 

Raising a hand to cover her mouth, Annette says, “Oh I couldn’t... is it one of your cookies?” When Mercie nods, Annette resists the desire to squeal. When they were in Fhirdiad together, Mercedes would bake as they reviewed for any exams they might have. Annette got to reap the benefits while studying for her tests. Mercie was a stress baker.

Mercie leaves for the back of the kitchens to grab the cookies she baked earlier that day. Annette can’t wait to eat them. She’s eaten so many times before but they’re just the best cookies ever.

“Have you known each other long?” Professor Byleth asks softly, having watched their interactions throughout the meal. They cheerfully fed each other bites while nudging each other and giggling. 

Annette nods eagerly, “It might be a little confusing because we’re from different houses but Mercie and I are best friends, we met each other while at the Royal School of Sorcery over in Fhirdiad, Faerghus’s capital,” she gushes. “I was so happy when she wrote that she would attend the Officer’s Academy with me.” Annette was worried that Mercie’s adopted father wouldn’t let her come to the academy but it seems that his opinion changed when it was reported that many of the Seven’s children would be in this year’s class. So Mercie was shipped off to the academy with the others.

“I see…” Professor Byleth absorbs this information. Mercie returns with her freshly baked cookies. They break apart easily with the chocolate still slightly melted. Annette resists the urge to moan loudly when eating them. But she doesn’t stop smiling when she eats another cookie.

Byleth takes a bite and Annette watches in anticipation, seeing their eyes widen slightly. “These are delicious, like you said.” They continue to nibble on the cookie, taking small bites. 

Walking away after finishing their meal, Annette compliments Mercie, nudging her. “Those were so good, Mercie. Even the professor thought so.” Mercie’s baking is amazing, she told her that her mother taught her to bake when they lived in Faerghus. She hasn’t told her the complete story yet of her time in Faerghus, just that she lived in a church, but Annette thinks that another year of their close friendship and she’ll get the story out of her.

“Did you really think so?” Mercie asks her. A frown lingers on Mercie’s face as she considers the Professor’s reaction to her baking, milder than most. “Perhaps I’m just used to stronger reactions to my baking. They did say it was delicious after all.”

“Exactly,” Annette beams, she points out. She’s had just one week of classes with the new professor but they don’t seem to show very much emotion at all, which is a little weird but it’s fine. She knows it is.

“How is training with the Black Eagles going?” She asks curiously. Dimitri’s already requested that they meet up weekly to train with each other, despite their different preferences in weaponry but it’ll be a good foundation when she wants to branch out of Reason and Faith magic. El had already promised to help her when she felt ready to start Axe training. She just had to help El with Reason magic. She wants bigger fireballs. 

Mercie looks away a bit before answering and sighs, “They’re all nice but I’m not sure we even like each other very much.” Annette scrunches her head up in thought. 

“How so?” Annette tilts her head questioningly. “I’ve talked to Caspar a little, and he seems really nice, although a little enthusiastic. And loud. I thought they all knew each other before coming here.” She did feel like the odd person out with everyone already being so close in their class. El and Felix share the same fiery temperament, Felix and Ingrid spend all their time in the training hall together, El and Ingrid chide Sylvain constantly about being late to class and so on. The only person here that she knows that well is Mercie and they’re in different classes.

“Caspar is nice,” Mercedes agrees, “but we all have such different interests. Linhardt likes to take naps a lot, I’ve caught him napping everywhere it seems; I never see Bernadetta outside of her room to see if she wants cake because she said that she likes sweets but even that isn’t enough to coax her outside.” Mercie wilted a little. “It doesn’t really feel like we’re housemates, really. Just people from the same country.”

Annette muses over the situation. “That must really suck Mercie, I’m sorry to hear that.” She thinks over a way to help her best friend, “Maybe the mock battle will help things. I’ve heard that Ferdinand is really competitive, I bet he’ll whip you all into shape!” She had heard that misery breeds company and collective suffering brought people together.

Mercie shakes her head, “Some of our class don’t like Ferdinand but he’s really not that bad at all. Hubert and Dorothea can’t seem to stand him sometimes.” Annette’s seen Ferdinand around the monastery a little, he likes to spend time in stables with the horses and likes tea. She hasn’t talked to him much at all. 

“Isn’t Hubert Ferdinand’s vassal?” Annette questions, she has seen little of a vassal and lord relationship in Dimitri and Dedue’s and it seems sometimes that Dedue would do anything for Dimitri. It took a lot of convincing for Dedue to even leave their camp during their training excursion last week. Loyalty, she thought, was a requirement for vassals. 

“Hubert is a little scary though, he kind of reminds me of a vampire.” The tall dark pale man loomed and seemed to prefer corners, never smiling. If she ever ran into him in the dark, she’d probably scream.

“He is,” Mercedes confirms. “I think their relationship is a little complicated. I’m not sure about Dorothea though,” she ponders the famous songstress a bit. “She’s very nice to me when I talk to her, but she mocks Ferdinand a little behind his back,” she makes a frustrated face. Mercie was always the peacemaker at the school. She softened blows and temperaments with her easy going smile. 

“The next emperor in line?” She hasn’t talked to Dorothea very much at all. She knows that she’s a flirt, but she has Sylvain in her house so she can’t judge at all. Dimitri tried to set a standard in their class; noble or commoner, they were all equals on the battlefield, that much was true. 

“Yes,” Mercedes nods. “I think she may have had a rough past, but she has said nothing about it.” Dorothea was really pretty and smart. Annette hasn’t talked to her much but Dorothea’s the talk of the monastery, famous before she even took a step there.

“Well, it’s only been a few weeks since you all first met,” Annette states quickly. “I’m sure you guys will get in sync soon enough.”

* * *

(27th Day of Great Tree Moon, 1180)

Bernadetta hums cheerfully to herself, safe in her room. “Okay Bernie, four weeks down,” she chants to herself. “Only 49 more weeks more to go.” She keeps her calendar pinned to her desk, counting down the days before she can leave the monastery and go back to the safety of her room at home. 

This is the longest time she’s spent outside of her room at the castle in years and while it’s not the same as home, at least she doesn’t have to worry about servants barging in. Or worse her father. The humility of being transported in a burlap sack stung a little but the bandit attack became the talk of the monastery afterwards. Plus, no one ever sees her so they can’t tease her about how she got to the monastery. 

She’s such an awful daughter, excited at the thought of her own privacy. She met the other Black Eagle students in her classroom and she felt as if there were bugs crawling all over her every minute she spent with them. But it’s not their fault that she’s weird and a coward, she just doesn’t like new people. That boy from the Golden Deer House, the big one, had to save her when they were being attacked by bandits. She didn’t even thank him, she just dove into a bush and hid there the entire time. 

Ferdinand doesn’t seem to recognize her, which she’s grateful for. If Ferdinand realized that her dad tried to engage her to the future Emperor all those years ago, she’d never leave her room. She’ll correct that, she’d never leave her bed. But now that Ferdinand met her, maybe the idea of her getting married to him would never happen. Why would Ferdinand want to marry her? She was a coward and selfish, she’d never make a good empress. 

But now in the safety of her own room, she gets to spend as much as she wants reading, writing, or knitting and no one will bother her. Perhaps being away from home isn’t as bad as it seems because no one can tell her how to spend her day.

* * *

(27th Day of Great Tree Moon, 1180)

Every single day Caspar goes running early in the morning. He needs to be the best and Linhardt had a point, he couldn’t just smash things all day, he needed to be in good shape too. He wants to be the strongest but he also needs to last the longest in battle. He also thinks that Linhardt told him that so he’d stop bothering so early in the morning. He can’t help it, he’s got a lot of energy.

He runs to his favorite place in the monastery, overhanging a cliff just before the sun rises. He wants to bring Linhardt here sometime but there’s no way Linhardt will wake up in time. He’ll just have to carry him it seems. It’s absolutely beautiful, this cliff. It oversees the forest and you can just see the sun peeking through the mountains at the right moment. 

He makes sure to stretch again before he goes back down the monastery; he didn’t want to cramp, he did once and it was awful. Linhardt gave him some advice on how to avoid that in the future because it hurt pretty stinking bad. He timed his run just right so he’s stretching in the middle of his run and gets to watch the sun rise. He’s gone to this same cliff during the middle of day and it’s still amazing. He wants to show this to someone even if it isn’t Linhardt.

* * *

(27th Day of Great Tree Moon, 1180)

Dedue putters around the garden, examining what plants commonly grew there. The weather at the monastery is a far cry from the weather in Duscur and Fhirdiad. So now he is learning about what kind of plants the greenhouse can grow. Different temperatures mean different plants will thrive in this environment.

He brought some seeds from Fhirdiad, which were cultivated from a plant commonly found in Duscur and he plans to plant them first. He is unsure if they will thrive in this kind of weather as they need far less water than what is usually available in most seasons. But then he sees their professor Byleth and Ashe coming around the corner, chatting softly. Dedue has kept mostly to himself since arriving at the monastery, despite the others’ best efforts.

But he is Duscurian and most do not trust outsiders. He is not supposed to know this but he is aware that King Lambert had to pay an extra fee to allow him to enroll in the Officer’s Academy with Prince Dimitri. He will pay King Lambert back for his kindness one way or another, he has to pay back the entire Royal Family for their kindness towards him.

The professor sees the greenhouse and then Dedue and strolls over with Ashe slightly lagging behind. He has never med Ashe before, as Lord Lonato, his adoptive father does not come to Fhirdiad very often. But Ashe has been kind to him, regardless that he is Duscur born.

They peer into the greenhouse, looking at the many plants there. “Do you know where I can find seeds to grow in the greenhouse?” They ask the caretaker there.

Dedue reaches into his pocket, palming the seeds. “You can use these,” He offers the small seeds in his palm. “I was planning on using them to grow some food that we could use in the kitchen but if you would like to garden as well….”

Byleth peers up at him, nodding. They take the seeds and walk off to the greenhouse caretaker, asking for tips and tricks on how to make sure the seeds that he gave them grow well.

“Already planning food in the kitchen?” Ashe asks, curiously. The shorter boy peers up at him, tilting his head. At this angle, he can see the freckles on his face. “What are you planning on making?” His green eyes readily meet Dedue’s. 

“Perhaps something with tomatoes,” Dedue answers automatically. “There are several fish dishes from Duscur that use tomatoes in their cooking, they are a bit spicy as well.” At the capital, he is usually shooed out of the kitchen, cooking rarely. But it seems here at the monastery, they encourage students helping in the kitchen. 

Ashe’s stomach grumbles. “That sounds delicious,” he laughs awkwardly, rubbing his stomach. “The sound of that makes me hungry.”

“When did you last eat?” Dedue looks over at the professor, still chatting with the caretaker. They should go to the dining hall if Ashe is feeling hungry. It is almost around the time for dinner.“Perhaps when the plants have grown, you can try it, Ashe.”

“Oh, really? Thanks, Dedue!” Ashe chirps, smiling brightly. “Do you want to go see what they have in the dining halls right now? I kind of want to ask you about what kind of plants that you like to grow. I’ve been trying to see if I can get any herbs from the gardening to cook with.” He gestures for Dedue to follow him out of the greenhouse, a short distance from the fishing pond and the dining hall as well as the dorm rooms.

“I can look into that,” Dedue responds. He has several actually that he brought back from Fhirdiad. Dimitri does not show very much interest in food on the rare occasions that he has cooked for Dimitri, but now that they are both at the monastery, he is determined to find food that Dimitri likes to eat. Dimitri is not the type to complain about his food, but he wants to find what his liege likes to enjoy. 

“I… like to cook as well,” he confesses, lightly. The others have raved about his cooking and he did cook a lot at his former village but it will be interesting if the others at the academy enjoy his cooking as well.

Ashe tilts his head, questioningly. “Do you like to cook a lot of Duscurian food?” He does, actually. He hasn’t been back to Duscur other than to say goodbye to his family more than four years ago.

Dedue nods, “It is hard to have any animals grow in Duscur that are for eating so we fish a lot.” He glances over at the fishing pond. “I expect that I will be using that a lot so I can cook with.” It was easier to raise fish than cattle and pigs. 

“Hmmm,” Ashe muses. “I’m not much of a fisher but if it means I get to try your food, it sounds good to me,” he beams at Dedue. They’ve reached the dining hall at the top of the stairs, the smell of cooked berries wafting in. Ashe’s nose perks up and scents the air, “I think they have pheasant with some berry sauce,” he guesses. He glances over at Dedue, “It’s no fish dish but I think that’ll taste good.” He looks over Dedue’s shoulder, “There goes the professor.” He points out.

Dedue turns and sees Flayn, the young girl, lead Byleth over the fishing pond talking animatedly. “Perhaps the professor will let us cook with what they catch from the pond,” he says out loud. He doesn’t know if the Professor cooks or not but it would not hurt to ask them.

Ashe’s eyes widen and he brightens at the idea. “That’s a great idea Dedue, maybe tomorrow we can ask them.” He chirps.

* * *

(27th Day of Lone Tree Moon, 1180)

“What do you think of the new professor?” Ingrid asks curiously, dodging a sword blow from Felix. The short mission to the outskirts of the monastery ended in disappointment and worry. El and Dimitri had quickly disappeared and while Sylvain didn’t take it seriously at all- the idiot had actually suggested that they ran off to get some alone time, they had gained a new professor, Professor Byleth and with everyone safe.. The child of the famed former Knight of Seiros, Jeralt Eisner, the BladeBreaker. This was an opportunity if she ever saw one. Glenn never had a teacher this well-respected.

“We’ll see if the Boar was right,” Felix sneers. “Or if he’s easily impressed.” Both El and Dimitri sang praise after praise about their new professor but in just one week it was hard to see if their judgment ran true.

Ingrid sighs. She doesn’t like when Felix talks poorly of Dimitri, especially since Dimitri never retaliates. Not even Sylvain knows what happened between the two of them, what caused that rift. She and El have had that argument with Felix before but it’s gone nowhere and left them with smarting egos and bruises. It’s a discussion that needs to be had though or they won’t get anywhere.

Ingrid’s family can’t afford to have knights consistently in their service so they rely heavily on mercenaries roaming around Fodlan. They’ve never employed the BladeBreaker and their mercenary clan as they’re seen as the cream of the crop of mercenaries in Fodlan and are usually too expensive. To run into them so close to the monastery and to employ both Captain Jeralt and Professor Byleth must have been expensive.

She jabs the training lance towards Felix who easily ducks it, she spins and swings the training lance catching Felix in the shoulder, winning that bout. The mock battle is set for tomorrow and is the first planned competition between the Three Houses. It was supposed to be the first time they were to see combat but the bandit attack two weeks ago pre-empted that. 

“I’ve heard of them,” Ingrid remarks to Felix once they’re taking a break. “Professor Byleth, they have a name in the mercenary circles.”

“And what’s that?” Felix sneers. Ingrid sighs, if Felix keeps acting like a brat, she’s going to treat him like a brat. Felix relents, knowing he’s gone a step too far even for him. They may be future in-laws but he knows Ingrid has her limits. ‘What are they known as?”

“The Ashen Demon, for their ruthlessness on the battlefield.”

* * *

(29th Day of Lone Tree Moon, 1180)

Lysithea hums to herself, skimming through the book titles that cover the library. Unsurprisingly, Garreg Mach Monastery has a wealth of resources that Lysithea has ever set eyes on. The library is vast, spanning several bookcases and three floors. It’s one of the most expansive in Fodlan, even rivaling the one in Enbarr in the palace. She’s never been to Enbarr but Tomas, the current librarian at the monastery speaks highly of it.

She doesn’t know Tomas but he knows her; Her family had recommended Tomas into service at Garreg Mach Monastery as the librarian and curator of the books there. He greeted her and introduced himself the moment she took a step into the library. She’s already pulled off a number of books off the shelves, skimming through the titles. 

Lysithea may be considered to be a magical prodigy in her own right and she hates that word, prodigy, but it’s fitting she guesses, especially compared to the other students in her class. She might be the only Dark magic user in the whole monastery.

Her parents have done their best to provide for her but their library is lacking in comparison to most noble families in Leicester. She’s had the opportunity to see the Gloucester and Edmund libraries and while they cannot compare to the monastery, it is far better than what her family has in comparison.

She may have overestimated how many books she can read in one day because by the time she finishes one book, it’s already dark out. She’s not a child but it still unnerves her to be in the dark. Tomas is still there thankfully and the library is well-lit, which is the reason why she didn’t realize how much time had passed. 

Regretfully, Tomas informs her the number of books that can be borrowed at one time is five books and she’s gone well over the limit. With a slight grumble, she moves to put the books away but Tomas reassures her that Cyril will do it later tonight.

“Cyril?” She asks quietly. She didn’t realize that Tomas was on a first name basis with the servants around the monastery.

“Cyril is one of Lady Rhea’s servants,” Tomas explains politely for her. “He works around the monastery, he’s actually your age, I believe.”

Lysithea tilts her head. “He’s a servant, at that age?” There were many servants around the monastery but to be that age was odd. Most people who entered servitude in the church were usually older in their twenties. 

Tomas hedges his words, “He’s an Almyran, Lady Ordelia,” he explains quietly. “He came into Lady Rhea’s service a couple of years ago.” It does explain a lot, just not how he came to the monastery. In the Leceister Alliance, there are a lot of Almyra servants, captured in the many battles between the two countries. Her family doesn’t have them, can’t afford them like the other noble families in the Alliance.

* * *

(30th Day of Lone Tree Moon, 1180)

Ashe scanned the terrain with the class by his side. “I see the other two houses,” he says loudly, having climbed a tree. “They’re both pretty far up north,” He jumps down from the tree. “The Black Eagles are on the right with Professor Manuela and the Golden Deer are on the left, covered by some barricades with Professor Hanneman.”

“Thank you for scouting Ashe,” Dimitri says gratefully. “We should plan our attack,” Dimitri says out loud to the others in their class.

“The Golden Deer house will be armed with bows,” Felix muses. “While the Black Eagle house has a lot of magic on their side.”

“Bow users are going to be Claude and Ignatz,” Ingrid points out. “I think I’ve seen Leonie use a bow before, but I don’t think she brought one for the mock battle.” She explains, “We’ve spent a lot of time at the training field.” The collective we being herself and Felix.

“We’ll have to watch out for Lysithea,” Annette points out. “She may be small but she’s got a lot of potent magical energy on her side,” having gone to the Royal School of Sorcery, she can feel magic running through Lysithea’s fingertips, ready to strike.

“Raphael and Lorenz both use gauntlets and axes respectively,” El muses. “So we just need to be aware of where Claude and Ignatz are at all times and if you spot them,” she says with a glint in her eyes. “You need to take them out as quickly as possible. It’s pretty hard to counterattack with a bow when an opponent is right on top of you, right?” She says to Ashe, he nods.

“The Black Eagle house may be trickier,” Dimitri muses. “They’ve got several magical users, however I believe Mercedes and Linhardt have only been trained in healing, is that correct?” He points this question towards Annette.

She nods eagerly, “Mercie didn’t like to learn combative magic, so she only knows Heal really.” Annette eagerly offers up the information to the group

“Petra’s pretty fast, she uses a sword,” Felix says, “I’ve seen her in the training grounds.” The future King of Brigid was a frequent visitor to the training grounds, showing off her speed and accuracy.

“Faster than you, Felix?” Sylvain teases, having been pretty quiet thus far. Sylvain spent most of his time flirting with the other girls at the monastery. Dimitri will have to talk to him about it later.

Felix narrows his eyes, “No one is faster than me.” Sylvain is asking for a fight. 

“Caspar likes to use gauntlets,” Dedue says quietly. “He likes to talk about it, loudly.” The blue haired boy was one of the more exuberant members of the Three Houses, talking loudly and quickly. He seemed nice, just very vocal. 

“Ferdinand’s a lance user,” El states. “We’ll need to watch for both Hubert and Dorothea, but I think we have a pretty good shot at this. She looks at Dimitri, “How will we go about this?” Professor Byleth will help them formulate an attack plan but the majority of planning will belong to the students. The other two houses seem to have entrenched themselves in their defenses. The Blue Lions house will have to attack them.

They decided to go with two main groups, Annette, Ashe, and Sylvain to take up the back line. Ashe and Annette will take up the back line, sniping the others from a distance and Sylvain will be there as a backup in case anyone decides to go around the side and cut them off from the others. Byleth nods their approval after reviewing their strategy.

El, Ingrid, Dimitri, Dedue, and Felix will be up front with Ingrid and Felix leading the charge as the fastest of the group. While El is going to be the main healer, she has enough defense to tank any attacks before Dimitri and Dedue can reach them. They choose to go after the Golden Deer house first because as a team, they do not have much resistance to magic.

“Once we get into the thick of it, things will begin to start moving pretty fast,” Dimitri says quietly, arming himself with a lance. “Be careful of Claude, I have no doubt he has a trick up his sleeve for this.”

El laughs, “shouldn’t you be saying that for yourself?” She teases. “You know that they’ll go for you first as our fearless leader,” she snags a pretty lightweight axe. The plan for her is to not fight as much, which some of the others think is a waste of her abilities but as the only healer of the Blue Lions, she has to. The lightness of the axe will come in handy if she needs to use her other hand to heal anyone injured.

They look to the sky, a light flare that Lady Rhea said that she would summon goes into the air, signaling the start of the mock battle.

When they approach the barricade, hiding in the forest, no one is in the clearing. Which was smart, as they waited for someone to take first action.

Until a purple head pops out and boasts, “No need to fear Claude, Ignatz and I, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester will take care of them.”

A loud smack of someone hitting their forehead echoes through the clearing, as Lorenz bounds out of the forest, closely followed by a timid Ignatz, hiding behind him.

Sylvain mouths to Ashe, “This can’t be that easy.” Ashe shrugs and readies his bow, waiting for Dimitri’s instruction.

Dimitri orders Ashe to strike at Lorenz and Annette at Ignatz, coming out the bushes slightly. Felix rushes out as Lorenz dodges the arrow, catching him in the side as Dedue blocks the arrow from Ignatz aimed for Annette, his large figure covering for her easily. Ingrid goes for Ignatz, rushing to reload before Ingrid jabs him with her training lance, forcing him to surrender.

Lysithea launches a Miasma at Felix from somewhere in the forest, to which El shoves him out of the way, tanking the hit with relative ease, shrugging away the magic. Felix slips past her, making his way through the forest with Ingrid close behind. Dimitri and Dedue go in as El, Sylvain, Ashe, and Annette wait in the edge of the forest looking for them to surface.

Claude leaps over the barricade into the clearing with Hilda close behind and Raphael stumbles back from the force of Dedue’s blow. 

Then the Black Eagles join the fray, as El pushes Ashe away from being struck down by Dorothea’s Thunder. The attack slightly singes Sylvain’s hair, causing it to stand up on end for a moment. Annette retaliates by summoning a Wind spell that Caspar off balance and out of the fight. Sylvain swings his lance to block Leonie’s as Ashe strikes her down with an arrow that bounces off her shoulder.

It’s absolute madness at this point. Ashe gets almost taken out by another Dorothea Thunder, only missing him by a foot. El launches herself into the fray when Felix doesn’t surface to take down Claude who has already taken out Dorothea with a well-placed arrow. Ingrid and Dedue take on Petra, who is truly fast as she whips around Dedue taking him out while Ingrid dodges another blow from her sword.

“Hey there Princess,” he teases with a sharp grin. “How are you doing?”

She blocks an arrow from him and she shoots back swinging her axe around, “Better when you’re defeated.” He dodges the box, using his bow to try and bludgeon with her but Dimitri interferes and blocks it with his lance. El holds her axe to his throat.

“Wow, nice teamwork you too, a little jealous honestly,” as Claude surrenders with most of his house already out of the way. Felix comes back with Marianne draped around his shoulders. 

“She fainted when I attacked,” he explains dully, putting her on the ground. “Didn’t even try to defend herself.”

Claude shakes his head, “We’ll have to work on that.”

The Blue Lions come out that skirmish with only a few down. Dedue was taken by Petra while Ashe bleeds from a blow from Hilda. Ingrid was taken out with another Axe strike from her as well. While they regroup, El heals Ashe’s facial wound with a quick heal spell. 

“That was only half of the Black Eagles,” Felix points out. “I haven’t seen Hubert or Ferdinand.”

Ashe shakes his head, “Linhardt is still missing as is Bernadetta.” El shushes him to make him stay still.

“We got Mercedes over there,” Sylvain points. “Caspar was taken out by a Wind spell from Annette, Petra with Ingrid and Dedue, and Claude got Dorothea out.”

“We’ve got the advantage,” Dimitri surmises. 

“Watch out for Hubert,” Annette warns. “His magic feels a lot like Lysithea except he’s probably a bit more sturdy than her.”

“Ferdinand’s been training for combat his entire life,” El points out. “He’ll be ready for us.”

Shouting from another tree that he climbed, “They’re holed up in a small structure,” Ashe says, dropping to the ground once more. “I saw Ferdinand’s cape but that’s about it. I don’t see the others.”

“How much coverage is there?” Dimitri asks.

“A little bit but there isn’t much when you get out there,” Ashe answers. “We may need to bait them out.”

“Also the odds of Bernadetta, Linhardt, and Hubert hiding in the trees as well,” Sylvain points out. “I can bait Hubert and Bernadetta if necessary.”

“What about Linhardt?” Ashe asks, curiously.

“Have you met the guy?” Felix snorts. “I doubt he cares very much about this to try and fight us.”

“Mercie did say he likes to nap.” Annette points out. “So Felix may be right.”

El frowns. “Sylvain and I can go in early to see what we can find with them. If Ferdinand is by himself in that structure, we should be able to take any hits from them with some ease before you catch up.”

“Felix should go with you,” Dimitri orders. “Focus on Hubert and then Bernadetta.” He looks to Annette and Ashe, “We can look for Linhardt and make sure we defeat all of them.”

True to form, their group finds Linhardt napping in the bushes, to which Dimitri prods him with his training lance and Linhardt wakes up. “Finally,” he complains. “You found me.”

“I don’t suppose you could tell us where Bernadetta and Hubert are hiding,” Dimitri asks, appalled by his behavior.

“Not particularly,” Linhardt fishes out a stray twig from his hair. “I wasn’t paying attention to when Ferdinand was talking.” Ashe stares at him, when he walks away.

“Should we rejoin the others or go after Ferdinand?” Annette asks Dimitri for their next steps. 

“Regroup,” Dimitri says. “That structure will provide Ferdinand good defense until we get to him from your magic and Ashe’s arrows.” They reach the edge of the clearing. 

“Lost Sylvain,” El shakes her head when they stumble out the brush. Felix carries Bernadetta’s unconscious figure. “Felix spooked her,” she states in explanation.

“I’m not actually doing anything,” Felix grumbles, leaning her against a tree. He jabs a thumb at El, “She used her first fire ball against Hubert when he took Sylvain out.”

“Nice!” Annette congratulates El. “I know you’ve been working hard on that.” The small mage has been helping El extensively when it comes to Reason magic; she’s pretty much the reason for the quick improvements El has made since the school year started.

El flushes, “I’m just grateful I didn’t light the whole forest on fire,” she shakes her head. “Took Hubert off guard so we didn’t have any more casualties. Linhardt?”

“Napping,” Dimitri states aghast. “I’ll have to talk to Claude and Ferdinand about the kind of students they’re putting out there. Hilda was complaining about working when she swung her axe at me and Linhardt didn’t even seem to care. Terribly grateful that I don’t have any of those problems,” he says smiling. 

“So, Ferdinand?” Ashe asks, looking up at the small stone structure on top of the hill where the Black Eagle house leader must be waiting for them

“He has to know he’s out matched,” Felix grumbles, looking up. “There’s no way he wins against the five of us.” Even if Ferdinand was from the Empire, they were Kingdom born and ready to fight.

“We could try smoking him out, literally.” Annette suggests. “A little bit of El’s Fire spell combined with my Wind spell, could do a lot of damage.” That would remove the necessity of them having to go into the building and getting caught off guard by Ferdinand.

“Structure is made of stone so it wouldn’t catch on fire,” El comments idly. “Just get a little warm for him,” she frowns, pulling up a Fire spell. “Not a play on words but I’m not sure if I have enough firepower to do what you suggested, Annette. I had to patch up Felix a little when Hubert got him with some Miasma.”

“Felix and I will approach the structure first with El.” Dimitri decides, “Annette and Ashe, I know I’ve been keeping you off the front lines but I need you to cover us again, if you don’t mind.” He directs them to follow them from a distance. In the likelihood that Ferdinand beats all three of them, they will have to be ready to strike.

Ashe shrugs, “You’ve got it.” He hasn’t been at the forefront of every skirmish but it’s been kind of fun, like the books he used to read, he feels like he’s the part of something special.

They approach the structure, knowing Ferdinand is waiting inside for them. Felix leads the way with the belief that if Ferdinand does try to strike first, Felix should be fast enough to dodge even if he is caught off guard and if not, El and Dimitri can take him out anyways.

Ferdinand waits them out until Felix enters the structure, waiting behind a wall and defeats him with a well-placed jab to the side. He doesn’t wait for Dimitri or El to follow, exiting the structure another way through the side to catch them off guard while they wait for Felix to give the all-clear. 

“Dimitri!” El yells as Ferdinand swings his lance at Dimitri who rolls to dodge. El fires off a small Fire spell first that disperses before it can cause any real damage to Ferdinand as a distraction. She follows up with a swing of her axe, which Ferdinand dodges. Dimitri recovers, jabbing with his lance as El swings again, catching Ferdinand on his side as she spins, dodging another blow from him. Dimitri catches him in his shoulder.

“I yield,” Ferdinand says, staring down both their weapons. Dimitri helps Ferdinand up with ease as El beams at Dimitri. Annette whoops from their spot in the trees. Victory was surely theirs. 

“Nicely done,” Ashe congratulates them when he joins them with Annette. “It was as if it was a scene from a book,” he compliments. 

El drags her sleeve across her brow, wiping away the sweat. The rest of their house joins them, watching from the sidelines, smiling from their victory.

“Does anyone need any healing?” Mercedes approaches them. “Congratulations on your victory,” she adds, graciously. The Blue Lions house demonstrated excellent teamwork in facing the other two houses.

“I think we’re good Mercie,” Annette replies. “Thanks for offering though!” She beams brightly. El has started healing the others and promised to focus on Faith magic while Annette raised her proficiency to match. She focused primarily on Reason magic at the Royal Academy. 

“Well fought,” Byleth congratulates them calmly. “It was very impressive. You all fought well and your tactics were sound. I’ve learned much from this. There are spots for improvement but overall, this was an excellent first glimpse into your fighting styles.”


	8. Part II Chapter III

* * *

(1st day of Harpstring Moon, 1180)

The high off the victory over the mock battle wore off and the small feast that followed was delicious. The Three Houses get their first real mission from Lady Rhea; they will track down the bandits that attacked them at Remire Village and stop them from hurting any more people. It seems that the bandit clan was still lurking around the area near Garreg Mach Monastery, attacking without abandon. It is easy to track their trail of carnage from reports of the small villages around the monastery. 

The Knights of Seiros have tracked them and found their base to be in Zanado, the Red Canyon. A holy site for the Church of Seiros, Dimitri explains to the professor and thus a reason for concern. They currently are not there right now, attacking other local villages but when they are, all three classes will be out there to defeat them. Strength in numbers. But until then, they will be trained by the professors both individually and in group sessions.

“I’m not sure what I should focus on,” El says to Ingrid. “I know my healing is important for the class but…” She didn’t use her axe very much during the mock battle, only near the end when she ran out of energy for her Fire spells and even then, it was Dimitri who led the attack. It’s just after class ended and before dinner and they are going over the newest lesson their professor taught.

The professor is brilliant, they may not be the most skilled in other weaponry but their mindset and their tactics on the battlefield are one to be studied 

“You want to train with Axes and Faith, right?” Ingrid goes through a Lance drill that Byleth taught her. She’s already had one private session with their new professor.

Ingrid’’s opted for Lances and Flying as she aims to be a Pegasus Knight and eventually a Falcon Knight. Ingrid’s had her training plan mapped out since she was 15, with Glenn’s help of course.

“Axes and Swords to be quite honest.” El hedges. “I trained with Rodrigue but magic just doesn’t come naturally to me.” She put a lot of sweat and tears into making her magic work. Thankfully because Felix was a reckless moron sometimes, she had opportunities every day patching him up. But it wasn’t as natural to her as it was for someone like Annette, who had natural talent in her fingertips. 

“Try Axes,” Ingrid turns her heel to go through another drill. “Dedue is trying out Gauntlets because the professor suggested it to him.” She draws her lance near as she wipes the sweat off. It’s been a long day and with another hour scheduled in the training field, it’s about to get longer.

“It’s still the early stages of our training, Annette said that her family’s relic is an Axe that uses magic so she’s focusing on Reason and Faith. So if you’re worried about not having enough healing in our group, there’s always Annette. She might switch to learning Axes later too. It’s a shame that we aren’t more like the Black Eagles house, they have more than enough healers. “ Ingrid jokes but points out. 

The Black Eagles house has more than enough magical healers in their group with Linhardt, Mercedes, Dorothea, and Hubert. Almost half their class primarily uses magic. Mercedes has trained with a bow some but with such a surplus of healers in their group, it’s hard not to be envious.

“You can try out the seminars with Professor Manuel and Hanneman if you need extra tutelage for magic. It’s a shame that we aren’t more like the Black Eagles house, they have more than enough healers.” Ingrid suggests. During their free days on Sundays, the other faculty, including sometimes the Knights of Seiros, offered seminars on their strengths. “Felix is always willing to train with you in Swords,” she points out, going through the same drill, her lance swinging with her.

El scrunches up her face. “There’s no way Dimitri or Dedue are going to learn magic. Felix has no interest because of well, Lord Rodrigue.” Felix still resented his father over his remarks about Glenn after the Tragedy of Kleiman. Glenn and Lord Rodrigue had already patched their relationship up with multiple lengthy discussions but Felix still simmered in resentment towards his father. “And I don’t trust Sylvain that much.”

“Instead of Faith, I’ll keep working on Reason, then.” El decides, sitting on the bench as Ingrid continues to go through her drills. “Being able to do 1 ½ Fire spells isn’t the goal I have for myself then. For now, Heal is the most Faith magic I need right now.” She doesn’t intend to be far from the action when people need healing. Although in his letters, Lord Rodrigue suggested to her that Physic, the Heal spell that allowed people heal from far distances, would be a useful spell to learn in the future.

“Glad to see I could help then,” Ingrid smiles, putting her lance down. “Would you mind going through a drill with me? Professor Byleth said that this would help against Axe attacks,” she brings her lance to the ready as El hefts her axe to her side. 

Ingrid directs El through the motions that she is supposed to be defending against. Once they go through it once, Ingrid has her do it again just to make sure she is comfortable with it. 

“Is this how Hilda took you out during the Mock Battle?” El asks before they go through it a third time. Ingrid has her swinging her axe with two hands in an upward manner before carrying the motion through a level swing with only one hand that should hit Ingrid somewhere between her upper torso and her head.

Ingrid shakes her head disgusted. “I can’t believe I was taken out so easily by Hilda,” she points out aghast. In a short month, Hilda has distinguished herself by how utterly lazy she was and unwilling to do any sort of real work. Axes were strong against Lances but Hilda clearly didn’t put as much effort into her training as much as Ingrid did. She wouldn’t be fooled twice by that girl.

El frowns, “Is this move she did?” She questions, “It’s actually a pretty tough move,” she swings her axe experimentally. “You need to maintain control of the axe through the entire motion and when you switch to only using one hand you risk losing control of the axe.”

* * *

(9th day of Harpstring Moon, 1180)

“Battalions?” Ingrid echoes, skimming over the book Professor Byleth handed to him. The professor went to her for further information about battalions, not having used them much in their work. It seemed that Captain Jeralt was familiar with them and wanted them to learn about them themselves.

They nod, “My father said that I should read this, that it would help with teaching.” Captain Jeralt gave them a rather large book, detailing the many uses of battalions and the types of them. It seems that battalions would factor into their training, which made sense. Many of these students would become military leaders and would have to lead soldiers in the battlefield, battalions would be a step in that learning process.

“They’re a staple in military fighting,” Ingrid explains patiently. “With a battalion, you learn how to lead and they provide...encouragement when fighting. Will we be assigned some?” She asks curiously. Battalions were pricey but invaluable when fighting armies. 

“Once I learn more about them, yes,” the professor confirms, taking the book back. They tuck the book underneath their armpit, securing it there.

“They assist greatly in battle,” Ingrid continues her explanation. “They’re more handy when fighting in wars,” she pauses. “A couple of years ago there was an invasion from Sreng, many of our class would have had the opportunity to lead their own battalion there, like Dimitri.” She mentions briefly. Glenn had written to her, showing a little bit of concern about exposing Dimitri to combat so early but he had been knighted into the Royal Guard so he didn't have room to complain. One of the few students there who saw active combat, it is clear the reason why Dimitri was chosen to become the house leader amongst a class who already had combat training, his position as the heir to the Kingdom of Faerghus notwithstanding.

“I remember,” Professor Byleth recollects quickly. “I was in the Alliance territory when it happened with my father and our mercenary band. They were repelled quite quickly, weren’t they?” Speaking back to the Sreng invasion. King Lambert was not able to ride to Sreng to support Margrave Gautier in the invasion and instead, Dimitri and Felix were sent along with Lord Rodrigue with supplies and more men. 

It was the first invasion that took place after the Tragedy of Kleiman and it was surmised that the timing was planned when the Kingdom of Faerghus would be unprepared. The worry was always there that Sreng would invade but just that it would happen sooner when there was more instability in the Kingdom as the King would have secured his power after the Tragedy of Kleiman. Sreng underestimated Faerghus for they had retaliated quickly and harshly.

“Yes,” Ingrid states, “The more you use them and gain their trust, the more they can help in combat. Each battalion type you have has different effects, some may help in magic, others in defense. It depends on the type of battalion in support.”

“They seem useful.” Byleth considers softly. “Are they considered to be mercenaries?” They ask quickly. Battalions are a strange sort; not independent from each other, they often use the same type of combat as their leader but also have training to utilize special techniques on the battlefield. One of the more expensive ones uses gunpowder in barrels that explode. 

“Not particularly,” Ingrid shakes her head. “I do know that some battalions are from a certain family’s house, like Sylvain’s family, they have the Gautier Knights who came into battle when the Sreng invaded. Oftentimes, they are just soldiers who are loyal. But there is a Battalion guild where you can hire them in the marketplace.”

“I see,” the professor assents. “Thank you for your explanation Ingrid, it was most helpful.”

* * *

(11th day of Harpstring Moon, 1180)

On their first free weekend of the week, the choir coordinator allows the students to participate in the weekly hymns taking place, opening them to all students. It’s voluntary but when a few students show up for choir practice, it falls on the professors to select students from the Three houses. This week was Professor Byleth’s turn as they got to know the students.

Linhardt and Marianne were selected for the first week by Professor Byleth when the choir coordinator was looking for students’ with their respective professor’s permission of course. Marianne is mortified. She hates singing, anything that draws attention to herself really. They sing awfully through the hymns that lead the worship. They were given one day to learn them and Marianne did try to learn them but these hymns were different from the ones used in the Leicester Alliance and Linhardt didn’t even try to learn them it seems. 

Singing out loud for a church full of people sounds like her worst nightmare. It’s only heightened by the fact that Linhardt can’t really sing or doesn’t put any effort into singing. It’s just her and Professor Byleth, who joins them for their performance but they’re so off that she daren’t show her face again. Perhaps Professor Byleth won’t choose her for choir practice next time. 

She does feel closer to the Goddess though, small comforts aside. Perhaps the Goddess will listen to her wishes now.

“You were really good,” Ashe compliments Marianne with a bright smile on his face, stopping her dead in her tracks. She doesn’t recognize this small grey haired boy approaching her in the cathedral. He looks to be her age though with kind green eyes.

“I-” She stammers, awkwardly. To her, her voice sounds weak and squeaky. 

“Oh I’m sorry, I haven’t really introduced myself, I’m Ashe from the Blue Lions House, you’re Marianne, right?” Ashe rubs the back of his head. He looks to the statuette of the Goddess. “These sermons are pretty great, Lord Lonato has tried to teach me what it means to be a true believer but I don’t think I quite understood until I came to the monastery.” He glances back at her, meeting his eyes. “I just wanted to say that, your singing helps me realize what the Goddess is truly about.” She remains mute, in shock. “Sorry to bother you.” He leaves her there, standing in the cathedral, driven away by her awkwardness.

She shuffles away, breathing heavily. He had to be lying to her, he had noticed how awful she was at singing and he had wanted to make her feel better. But she wasn’t a good singer. He was a good person for doing that but she wasn’t a good person and that just made it worse. She pants harder, feeling her crest rise. She pushes it down, to stop it from activating. She can’t show her crest now, not when the cathedral is at its busiest.

She rushes to the stables, to see Dorte, her new friend. He will understand her worries. When she gets there, to her relief, it’s just her. 

Dorte eagerly lets her feed him a sugar cube and carrot stick and she brushes out his mane with ease. She whispers her thoughts to him and he responds back with a snout to her hair. Even in her worst thoughts, she can always find peace here in the stable. 

She presses Dorte’s snout to his forehead, even at her lowest points, horses have always made her feel better. She doesn’t want to cause any trouble for Professor Hanneman but she really hopes that he’ll let her do Riding training. Being one of the two magic users in their house limits her but she really wants to be trained in Riding just so whenever she’s on the field, she’ll have Dorte with her. 

* * *

(11th Day of Harpstring Moon, 1180)

"Nice work during the Mock Battle," Annette beams at Ashe, complimenting him cheerfully.. "You were so cool, just firing off arrows like that," she mimes Ashe's quick motion of arrow shooting. 

"You did really well too," Ashe compliments. "Those wind spells pack no joke, I really thought Caspar might really get blown away by them." Annette had used her Wind spells during the mock battle with relative success. She was able to knock Caspar to the floor but with larger opponents, like Raphael, it didn’t work as well. It probably helped that Caspar was in mid-jump when he lunged at her. 

"Maybe with a Cutting Gale spell," Annette muses, "But I'm nowhere near mastering that spell." She had wind magic as her nature so quick spells were her forte but the Cutting Gale spell needs more energy and a different rune to summon it. 

"What did you ask the professor to help you focus on?" Ashe asks curiously, he has no touch when it comes to magic and Annette's the first person he's ever met that has completely dedicated themselves to magic.

"Faith and Reason," Annette states proudly. "I focused a lot on Reason magic when I was at school and my family has a strong connection to the Goddess," Annette shrugs. "So it seemed like a natural fit. You?" She asks curiously, Ashe is the only Bow user in the class but hasn’t said much about what his goals were at the monastery.

"Bows and Lances. I want to be a Knight like my adopted father so that's why I'm here. I know I'm talented with a Bow but I want to become more like him if I can help it," Ashe scratches the back of his head sheepishly. She’s heard of Lord Lonato, his territory is close to the border of the Adrestrian Empire and the Kingdom of Faerghus. She doesn’t know Lord Lonato that well, her family hasn’t spoken very much about him.

"Is he a Paladin?" Paladins are extremely powerful knights that are incredible riders and are gifted with the lance. Her family has always been based in Faith and Axes but the Kingdom of Faerghus does have a strong knightly background; even the King before he was injured had been a Paladin.

"He is.. I have a long way to go," Ashe deflates a little bit. Paladins were revered in Faerghus, known for their Riding and Lance skills. They were masters of their crafts and often the ones leading the charge when it came to battle. As a Bow user, Ashe would have a hard time getting there.

"It's a long year, "Annette points out. "Plus we have tons of people in our class who can help you train in Lances! And I don't have a lot of experience riding a horse but I'm sure there are so many people here who can help you with that, like Captain Jeralt!" The Officer’s Academy employed the best of the best because they needed to teach the future leaders of Fodlan. Both in combat and strategy, even though Ashe didn’t necessarily have the proper background, there were so many people who could help him get there.

"That's a good point," Ashe admits, "I have so much I want to do before this year ends but I guess we are really just starting to begin."

"Exactly," Annette smiles and she tells him. "I'm not just going to stick with Reason and Faith magic all the way through. I'll have to pick up Axes along the way and El has already promised to help me as long as I keep helping her with Reason magic too." She was a little intimidated by Crusher. Not even her father or uncle used it wielded it because they didn’t have the Crest of Dominic, she was the only in her family who had the crest. But when the time came, she had to be ready.

"Perhaps, you could help me learn Reason magic as well, then." Ashe responds, pleased.

* * *

(12th of Harpstring Moon, 1180)

Felix had his one on one training with Byleth today. The Boar Prince and El had spoken highly of their professor, claiming that their swordsmanship was on a level that they hadn’t seen before. They met in the training field as Byleth had reserved for their hour of personal training.

Byleth was already there, swinging an Iron sword idly as they tested its balance. Felix appreciates that, the fact she’s early to their training, not naming any names, Sylvain, but Felix doesn’t have time to waste as he needs to get stronger and stronger. 

“How long have you been training with a sword?” Byleth asks, facing him, swapping their Iron sword for a training one. They test its weight, making sure it’s to their preference. Felix can appreciate that, every sword, even training ones are made differently.

“Before I could even walk,” Felix retorts sharply. “That’s how it is for everyone in Faerghus. You learn how to fight before you can read.” Due to Faerghus’s strong belief in chivalry, most noble children learned how to fight with a lance before they could even walk. There were even several stories of children using a dull lance as a walking aid. It was the same for everyone in their childhood group, weapons training was an integral part of their day to day life.

“I see,” Byleth murmurs, keeping their eyes on Felix, meeting his own. “I find it most helpful being able to learn about a person’s fighting style through live combat. The Mock Battle showed me much about you and your class but the only way to get to know someone is by fighting them,” they state calmly. They raised their sword in front of them. “Shall we begin?”

Felix grins, lifting his sword, elbow slightly bent. He swings it down, Byleth dodging it easily. “The first strike,” they say quietly, “is often a defining moment in a battle.” They dodge another jab from Felix’s sword. “It conveys much about an opponent,” they return another strike from Felix with their own, their blades clashing. They push off and Felix skids in the dirt a little from the force of their blow. They’re strong and fast; Felix likes a challenge.

Byleth feigns a stab, swinging their sword to strike Felix’s side. Felix parried that blow but Byleth followed up with a quick jab to his side, a slight stinging pain flared there.

“The first blow often displays the mindset of the swordsman. It is an important move, yes but so is the reaction to it. Does your opponent dodge it? Or do they strike back?” They exchange a flurry of blows, Byleth meeting Felix’s every move.

They push him back with a series of aggressive swipes and jabs, catching him off balance and they trip with an unexpected foot. They deliberately slide their foot in the middle of Felix’s scrambling one, causing him to fall. They raise their blade to his chin as he stares at them surprised. They offer a hand and he takes it as he pulls himself up with their support.

“You’re very aggressive,” they remark coolly, ignoring the fact they had just knocked Felix into the dirt with ease. “Something I knew by the fact that it was you who went in after Ferdinand instead of someone like Dimitri and that you led the charge with Ingrid during the Mock Battle. This only confirmed it.” They lead him back to where they started, getting ready for another bout.

Felix grunts, brushing the dirt off him. “It’s because I’m fast also,” he adds in.

Byleth nods, “It helps with your slight frame that you can often make the first strike against your opponents.” Felix stops and stares at them.

“My what?!”

The professor tilts her head, “Your slight frame,” they repeat themselves. “It is useful when you want to make the first strike.” 

Felix fumes, he knows that he is smaller than most men in Faerghus, almost the same size as Ingrid. Only Ashe in their class is smaller than he. He has his father’s build, Glenn is taller than them both but that’s Glenn, he’s weird.

They continue, “Given your size, the first strike is a logical one but be sure to expect a retaliatory strike,” they explain calmly, ignoring Felix’s outrage. “You cannot expect to take them out in the first move so your next bet would be an extended fight in which you dodge and exhaust your opponent.”

They raise their training sword once more. “Shall we begin?”

* * *

(15th Day of Harpstring Moon, 1180)

Lysithea scrunched her face up in concentration, summoning a Miasma spell to her hand. She releases the magic, grumbling to herself. "What am I doing wrong?" She said out loud. When the bandits attacked, all she was able to do was use Miasma to stun some of their enemies and during the Mock Battle, that Blue Lions girl, El, was just able to shrug it off. Then Dimitri, who was too fast for her to react, took her out with relative ease before she could even get another Miasma spell out.

She needs to do better. She wasn't performing to her standards, at all. She's been pushing herself to her limits, trying to master new spells every day, Swarm being one of them. But that spell is far too inaccurate for her liking. In situations like the Mock Battle, she'll need to take out her opponent as fast as possible and relying on a spell as inaccurate as Swarm isn't part of the plan.

She mutters to herself, getting into a rhythm, blowing up the same dummy over and over again.

"...Lysithea."

She launches another Miasma spell and then another, the runes appearing easily in front of her.

"Lysithea," a figure squeaks behind her, just above her ear.

That Miasma spell misses, blowing up the ground next to the dummy and Lysithea shrieks, whirling around clutching a hand to her heart. It’s Marianne, the silent girl from her class. She hasn’t talked to many of her classmates, too focused on her work, except for _Claude_ , who infuriatingly treats her like she’s a child. Which she isn’t.

"Sorry," Marianne apologizes, "You seemed so focused." Her blue eyes run down Lysithea’s figure softly. She doesn’t like being spooked, not that she’s afraid of ghosts or anything, but being touched without warning just doesn’t sit well with her.

Lysithea pants, breathing hard. "Just-don't do that again." Her eyes flicker towards Marianne, who takes a step back. "Did you need something?" She asks briskly. She’s not going to hurt Marianne but there must be a reason that Marianne sought her out and bothered her. She hasn’t talked to Marianne at all, hasn’t interacted with her very much except for that night where there was utter chaos and even then, Marianne did say anything. She just cowered behind Lysithea.

"Oh....I just wanted to say thank you for your help when the bandits attacked us. You protected us both." Marianne stammers softly. That night when they were cornered by the bandits, Lysithea had launched Miasma spell after Miasma spell at the bandits. She didn’t kill any of them but they were given a wide berth when Lysithea proved to be uncaring of who she blasted.

"Not much help it did in the end though," Lysithea scowls, thinking of her shortcomings. "We had to get bailed out by Claude." In the end, they were pushed back by a threatening bandit until Claude distracted him and she defeated him with the biggest Miasma spell she could summon. And then they ran.

"But- you did something," Marianne replies. "I couldn't even do anything."

Lysithea shrugs, "Well, you only know Heal as a spell, right? It wouldn't be very fair to expect anything of you right now, isn't it?" Marianne isn't the most confident person Lysithea has met and according to her, she's barely started to learn Faith magic, let alone Reason magic. Reasons aside, Faith magic does not focus on offensive spells but rather support and defensive spells. 

Lysithea's own studies have her focusing on Reason magic herself and that's what she will be focusing on with Professor Hanneman. Faith magic will also be another concentration of hers but that's so she can exponentially increase her growth with magic. For her family, she needs to become the strongest magic user that Fodlan has ever seen. She has to be.

“I’m sure that you’ll get stronger,” Lysithea states, assured. “We weren’t supposed to see combat when we went to Remire Village so it’s fair that you weren’t expecting to fight then. But we’re at the Officer’s Academy now- so you’ll have to learn how to fight at some point.” She went to the Officer’s Academy, despite its steep fees, to make sure that she could make a future for her parents because she wasn’t going to have much of one at all.

* * *

(18th Day of Harpstring Moon, 1180)

Bernadetta shakes as Byleth and Mercedes scan over the menu that was provided to them from the head chef. Several dead bullheads lie on the cutting board. She hates being outside of her room and being with the professor and Mercedes doesn’t help. 

Mercedes is really nice to her and is in her class but if she messes this up, Mercedes will hate her and never want to talk to her again and then her life will be ruined as just another person hates her. And then there’s Professor Byleth, a professor who probably has zero tolerance for incompetence. The Professor may have only been a few years older than her but her and her father were renowned across Fodlan. They must think of her as an annoying bug underneath their shoe.

“We should probably cook the Swift Fish Gratin, then.” Mercedes says after looking over the menu one more time. “Bernadetta, what do you think?” Mercedes asks, peering over the menu at her.

“Oh-,” Bernadetta squeaks, “I-um, sure?” She hates making decisions like this because what happens if she makes the wrong one and no one likes her food?

“Professor?” Mercedes turns to professor Byleth who raised their hand. 

“How does one make gratin?” The professor inquires. It may have been suggested that they develop the menu for dinner but the Professor has very little knowledge of cooking, over surviving on the basics with their mercenary clan.

“It’s pretty simple actually.” Bernadetta pipes up. When they turn to her, she freezes. Byleth tilts their head questioningly. “We could use breadcrumbs, eggs, cheese, or butter.” Bernadetta suggests, stuttering under their stare. “The hard part will be preparing the bullheads but I can help with that.” She’s cleaned fish before and the bullheads, while intimidatingly large, won’t be too hard to handle.

Mercedes turns to the professor, “I think we should use a combo of the breadcrumbs and cheese, what do you think professor?” She asks pleasantly. Mercedes took charge of the cooking, as Bernadetta was not too confident and the Professor too unprepared to do so.

“That sounds good,” Byleth nods. “How will you prepare the fish?” They ask Bernadetta curiously, turning to her. They eye the knives that sit next to the fish.

“Just a simple filet method and I’ll have to descale the fishes first before we can use them but I think this should be good.” Bernadetta responds, “I’ll probably just use a simple salt and pepper seasoning.” Gratin is pretty yummy and she doesn’t want to make the fish too complicated since most of the flavor will be in the cheese and breadcrumbs. It’s a creamy dish and if she messes up the fish, it’ll be pretty noticeable.

Mercedes smiles, agreeing, “That does sound good. I have to say I’m not very good with savory dishes but I think with Bernadetta cooking, we should have a really good meal tonight!”

To Bernadetta’s surprise, she earns compliments aplenty from the other students, Caspar and Raphael especially.

* * *

(19th Day of Harpstring Moon, 1180)

“Hunting down the bandits,” Ignatz muses worriedly to himself. Claude informed them that the mission for all three houses this month was to hunt down the bandits that attacked at Remire Village. The Knight of Seiros had spent the last month and a half whittling down their numbers that only twenty or so remain. It was a large bandit clan that roamed around the Oghma Mountains, only surfacing when they heard a large group of defenseless noble children would be in the area. Well, mostly defenseless. 

The houses were armed during the conflict, one way or the other and no one suffered any major injuries for which he thanked the goddess for. The terror of that night would had lasted much longer if anyone had died during the raid.

He was terrified during that battle, wielding only a bow for his protection. He clung closely to Raphael during it, who was so confident in comparison to him. He owes Raphael a gift for that, especially with his birthday coming up soon. But he didn’t quite have any good ideas for Raphael, who was incredibly practical and his one true love for food proved him difficult to find gifts for. Ignatz wasn’t much of a cook so cooking any special treats or desserts for him was out of the question. Perhaps, he could do a portrait of Raphael, one that he could send to his sister, Maya.

He had his one on one session with Professor Hanneman, who showed him methods in the ways that he could fire the bow off even faster than he did right now. It included some strengthening exercises so he could fire the bow even further. However, Hanneman noted that the one thing that Ignatz had to work on was his confidence. 

He points him towards Shamir, one of the Knights of Seiros and an extraordinary bow user at that. She’s a little too intimidating for him right now so he’ll work at getting better at using the bow before he approaches her. He doesn’t want to waste her time by having her teach him the basics. His knees quaked at the thought of being thrown into battle right now but Professor Hanneman had a point, if he hesitated then he would have trouble becoming the knight his parents wanted him to be.

“Oh Ignatz,” Lorenz alights on him. “There you are,” Lorenz is one of the people who does not lack confidence in the Academy. Why shouldn’t he be? Lorenz is a talented Lance user and will make an excellent Duke of Gloucester when he succeeds his father. He’s nothing like Ignatz who isn’t even sure why he’s here at the Officer’s Academy. 

“I wanted to apologize for the mock battle,” Ignatz stares at him baffled. “I should not have dragged you into the field like that,” Lorenz bows slightly. “It was an unsightly thing, forcing one of my comrades into the battle like that. I understand that you may have not felt that you had the ability to say no but I just wanted to let you know that I have an open ear for any and all concerns for me.”

Ignatz gapes. Lorenz waits expectantly, tapping his boot.

“I’m sorry?” Ignatz starts. “It was just the mock battle- I don’t know why you’re apologizing for it.” The mock battle was almost two weeks ago and while the Golden Deer House lost to the Blue Lion but it wasn’t as if Lorenz dragged him out there; he followed him there. 

Lorenz sighs, “It does not do for a noble to lead those who may not be ready for combat,” he states impatient. “I intend to lead House Gloucester to glory; if I am to make something of myself, I need to analyze the situation better and understand how those under my command feel towards a situation. Not that I am saying that I am above you but I placed myself above you during that moment. I compelled you to come out with me when I should have not and I would like to apologize to you sincerely for that.” Lorenz reiterates. “I hope that this does not affect our relationship in the future.” He nods, and walks away.

Ignatz blinks, flabbergasted. He hasn’t talked to Lorenz much, he knows that Lorenz is proud of being a noble and places an immense amount of pressure on himself to live up to his ideals of a noble but apologizing to him for his actions during the mock battle was unexpected. 

Ignatz followed Lorenz into the clearing, if Ignatz had truly believed that he shouldn’t have, he could have said no. Loreniz did not need to take the onus of the responsibility of their elimination from the mock battle on to himself because they shared the blame for it.

* * *

(20th Day of Harpstring Moon, 1180)

El tapped her quill against the parchment, taking notes. She and Dimitri were studying together in the library, poring over the formation that Professor Byleth assigned them. Dimitri said that he had explained Battalions to them, just a quick explanation but it seemed that they picked it up rather quickly. They assigned a foot of parchment on battalions and their uses and then six inches on the best kind of battalion that would suit them as a soldier. 

El had three inches to go on the assignment and then the rest of the six for the personal essay. 

Dimitri stretched, cracking his neck. While El fit in the chairs perfectly, Dimitri and other tall students had to crane a little bit. Poor Dedue, he stood most of the time because the chairs were not comfortable enough for him for long periods of time. 

“Thoughts on our class?” Dimitri asks curiously as El stabs her paper, finishing a sentence. She resists the urge to chew on the quill.

“We won the Mock Battle,” El points out blankly, focusing on her homework. She’s stumped on the personal battalion question; the majority of her friends have battalions ready to be sent to the monastery at their request. She didn’t and while she realized that she would become the class healer, it didn’t mean that she wanted a battalion completely dedicated to healing. 

“We still have to work on teamwork but we have a good foundation.” She smiles back at him. Dimitri’s been adjusting to the monastery well, at least she thinks he is. He didn’t want to leave King Lambert but he had to attend the Officer’s Academy. “Annette is talented with magic and Felix and Ingrid train enough to make up for Sylvain’s slacking. You’ll have to talk to him about that, by the way.” She points out, “Dorothea’s already come to me about his flirting habits.”

Dimitri sighs, furrowing his brow. “He isn’t bothering her, is he?” He asks weakly. El shakes her head. It’s not Dimitri’s responsibility to rein Sylvain in, it isn’t anyone’s but they’ve known Sylvain for so long it feels like it is. He already skipped one class to go on a date. They don’t want to have to explain _Sylvain_ to Professor Byleth but if they start asking questions, he will leave them no choice.

“Thankfully Sylvain knows when to leave girls alone.” El remarks calmly, which couldn’t be said about the other flirts around the monastery. “But he needs to be reminded that if he wants to go on dates, then he needs to go on his own time. Not during class.”

Dimitri nods tiredly. “What are you reading?” El asks curiously. Dimitri already finished his homework assignment; he was experienced with battalions having led them during Sreng’s invasion. He offered to help her with the assignment but El refused, battalions were important to learn about and she didn’t need Dimitri’s help. 

He hesitates, pausing. “It’s a book about the Hresvelg line.” He remarks quietly, showing the title of the book to her. It’s a new book based on the freshness of the ink and bindings that are not yet worn. “About Emperor Ionius’s children.”

El blinks calmly. “And what does it say?” At her request, Lord Rodrigue had investigated the death of her siblings but there was nothing, nothing but rumors and death.

“Nothing that isn’t old information,” Dimitri answers honestly. One of their secret projects is learning more about what happened to her siblings. Hubert had no answers for her and neither did any of the Seven’s children. It seemed that none of them were close to their fathers and had no involvement in the Insurrection. Dimitri returns the book to the shelf for reshelving. “No useful information there.” He sits down next to her, taking her right hand into his. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs into her ear. 

El shakes her head willfully. “It’s alright, I appreciate you looking for new information on them,” she takes his hand with her right as she continues to write her essay. They agreed that when they came to the monastery, they would research her siblings’ death and the Tragedy of Kleiman. It was not just Kleiman and other minor nobles who planned the king’s death, there had to have been others involved.

There really was no information about the fate that befell her siblings. When El had known them, they were sane, happy, and healthy. The idea of them taking their lives or falling to illness in such numbers seemed absurd but no one in the Empire was questioning it. Not even the Emperor. 

* * *

(25th Day of Harpstring Moon, 1180)

Petra lay in the grass in the meadow outside of the monastery. She had snuck out of the monastery early in the morning, climbing over a wall so she could commune with mother earth, a ritual that she tried to keep at least once a week since arriving in Fodlan. She could feel the breeze in the wind, enjoying the cool air before the warmth arrived. 

“Petra?” A figure stumbled upon her lying in the grass. She did not know this boy, she saw him around the monastery but did not know his name. “What are you doing?”

“I am to speak,” she corrected herself. “I am speaking with mother earth,” she explained calmly to him. “I cannot do it in the monastery so I do it out here.” She weaved her fingers through the tall glass. “It is most enjoyable.”

“I see,” the boy nods. “Mother earth?” He asks, curiously, sitting down with her, his green eyes meeting hers. 

“Mother earth,” she repeats calmly. “It is one of the many spirits that reside in this world and I must pay respect to it. There are many more in the world but for me and my family, mother earth is the one we respect amongst all others as she is the one who provides for us. And after I commune with mother earth, I shall go hunting,” she gestures to her bow and arrow near her. “For my respects to mother earth will be rewarded with success.”

“You go hunting out here too?” The boy says, leaning in.

“Lady Rhea has allowed me to hunt and forage in the area. She requests that I bring my spoils to the kitchens for cooking of the meals and I am happy to do that. I just request to keep the furs for my own use and she has agreed to that as well,” Petra answers truthfully. While Lady Rhea did not give her permission to leave the monastery so early in the morning, she did give her permission to hunt when she pleased. Of course, Petra would never miss class, there was too much growth she wanted to achieve.

“But you snuck out,” the boy furrows his brow. “You hopped the monastery walls and left without alerting the gatekeeper.”

“You were watching me?” Petra asks, curiously. She is not bothered by the concept but she did not realize that she was being watched. She must strive to be more sneaky in the future.

“I watch everybody,” the boy answers truthfully. “So why do you sneak out?”

“I like to keep my own schedule,” Petra explains. “I do not like to plan when I commune with mother earth and if I informed the gatekeeper of my comings and goings, he might expect me to have a schedule for him to follow. And I do not want that.” She pulls her long maroon braid over her shoulder, picking out any leaves or twigs that might have gotten stuck to it. She will go hunting soon even with this boy nearby.

“Fair enough.”

* * *

(30th Day of Harpstring Moon, 1180)

They’ve received word from the Knights of Seiros that the bandits have surfaced and are on the run from them. They move out quickly, gathering any necessary weapons and vunlenaries that they might need in preparation. Any students that are focused on Faith magic have been instructed to stay in the back as only some have a secondary weapon of choice like Marianne or have picked up Nosferatu.

The Red Canyon is exactly that, a canyon and once the bandits scurry into there, they cannot get out, not with the Knights of Seiros guarding the entrance and watching the scene. They are trapped there with the students. Leonie isn’t sure how she feels about the idea that the bandits are like their trapped prey but she can’t let Captain Jeralt down if she hesitates like this. Gripping her lance tightly, she descends into the Red Canyon with the other students. 

She doesn’t have much pity for the bandits, seeing as how they’ve wreaked on innocent villagers all over Garreg Mach Monastery but as Caspar fells an enemy, cheering loudly, she can’t help falter. 

Then she sees a bandit attack Ignatz and her lance moves on its own, piercing her enemy through the shoulder as Marianne finishes him with a Nosferatu, shivering with a prayer on her lips. Ignatz stares at them wide-eyed. “Thanks.” She can see the fear in his eyes.

“Keep your guard up,” Leonie yanks him off the floor. “This is real live combat Ignatz, not the mock battle. They won’t go easy on us. If you need to, you and Marianne can stay behind me. This is what I’ve trained for,” she steels her gaze, looking around the battlefield.

Hubert stuns another bandit with a Miasma as Hilda smashes an axe through his chest, splattering with blood. She looks almost surprised, pleased with herself, not even minding the blood dying her pink hair bright red.

El and Dimitri almost work in tandem as El knocks the bandit off their guard with a wild swing of her axe, followed with a Fire spell that knocks them to the ground. Dimitri finishes them with a violent stab through the stomach, a quick painless death.

They move systematically through the canyon, killing the bandits without worry. They’ve listened to their professors, they’ve been trained for this moment but still some hesitate like Bernadetta, who apologizes shrilly after letting an arrow fly, catching a bandit in the arm. This allows for Caspar to almost decapitate a bandit. There isn’t much room for mercy out here. 

Perhaps that is one lesson the bandits taught to them on their mission to Remire Village; there is no compassion on the battlefield in the face of death. This is what the Officer’s Academy has to teach to their students.

The bandits scurry even deeper into the Red Canyon and a decision is made to split the classes up to ensure that the bandits don’t escape the way the students don’t come from. Just in case, Byleth signals to the Knights of Seiros that accompanied them to follow them into Zanado to make sure the remaining bandits don’t force their way through the other half of the students. 

Ashe spots a chest, scrambling over to it and slinging his bow behind him. “Don’t you need a chest key to open that?” Sylvain asks, curiously watching him. Ashe fiddles with the chest, examining the lock and pulls out a set of lock picks. A few seconds and the chest pops open. “Oh.”

“Whoa.” Ashe murmurs softly, the glow of gold coming from the chest. They were not expecting that much gold in the chest. 

“Take it,” Byleth orders, standing over him with their sword in hand. “That’s the property of Garreg Mach Monastery now.”

Claude examines the amount of gold in the chest and whistles, “They must have been in operation for a while to collect that much gold,” he surmises. Whoever these bandits are, they’ve been working a long time to get that much gold. It must be all of their gains from their banditry.

“I am going to need another bag,” Ashe remarks calmly after the one he brought is overflowing. Raphael tosses him another one with relative ease, pulling it out of his pockets. 

“What?” Raphael says sheepishly. “I was using that to hold the extra food that I brought. And already ate.” Leonie can see the crumbs around his mouth before he rubs it away with his sleeve, slightly staining it.

Mercedes finishes healing another wound for Caspar who got a little too close to another bandit before Linhardt threw a Nosferatu spell at him to kill him. He was busy puking, which is why he couldn’t help Caspar with his wound.

“We should keep moving,” Ferdinand states, looking down the two paths that lead further into the canyon. “We shouldn’t give them the chance to regroup.” The Black Eagles House leader had his lance tucked underneath his elbow, ready to go at a moment’s notice.

They continue with the mission and are divided up into two groups: Leonie finds herself on a team made up of mostly Blue Lions and a couple of Golden Deer like Ignatz, Raphael, Claude, Marianne, and Hilda with her. On the other side, they are led by Ferdinand and Professor Byleth, with mostly Black Eagles and Lorenz and Lysithea on their side. After that, they are even further divided up into groups of three.

“Your first priority is your team members,” Byleth instructs. “You focus on covering them first but if you see any of the others in trouble, you can help them but your first priority is those on your team. Your strengths become the strengths of the group and help cover any weaknesses.”

She is placed on a team with Dedue and Mercedes as there was an intention to have at least one magic user in each group so Leonie can’t complain. Both of them are hard workers as far as Leonie can tell and while Dedue isn’t the most talkative his stern expression offers comfort and lets them know that he will protect them wherever they need. Well, that is if Leonie ever needed protection, which she won’t, not today.

She keeps her Lance ready as they descend down the stairs in their selected trios, Claude’s group going first. He was paired with the Blue Lion’s House leader, Dimitri and another Blue Lion, El. They seemed well matched, El has a small hand axe slung to her side as Dimitri takes point and Claude covers their backs.

Mercedes did have a bow slung over her shoulder, which she handed off to Leonie, keeping her hands free with a Nosferatu spell close at hand. Leonie’s comfortable with a bow in her hands, having kept her village fed during the rough winters.

They continue the hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, last week as I was finishing up Part II, I couldn't figure out why my laptop was running so slowly. Pro tip- don't have 30k Google docs constantly running all the time lol. Sorry about the multiple POVs, as I was writing this I was doing it during Nanowrimo and was trying to get as many words on the page as possible. Also I was trying to get used to writing in the different POVs of the characters because there are so many. Of course, a few of the POVs are off limits. Can you guess which ones?


	9. Part II Chapter IV

* * *

(1st Day of Garland Moon, 1180)

El wakes up to pounding on her door during the middle of the night. Bleary-eyed, El stumbles to her door in nothing but her thin sleep gown that covers her arms and barely goes past her knees. It’s Dedue.

“His highness needs you,” Dedue dwarfs her doorway, his head almost touching the very top. El told Dimitri that Dedue didn’t upset her by growing even taller, but she might be, a little. She hadn’t seen him in four years, she didn’t expect him to be this tall. 

She had been sleeping fitfully after they received news of their latest mission. They would clean up once the Church of Seiros quelled Lord Lonato’s rebellion. Ashe’s face went pale when he heard this, and so did many of the others. 

They walk towards Dimitri’s room on the second floor where most of the nobles in their class sleep. There are some nobles on the first floor, like Lysithea or Annette, but most of the nobles sleep on the second floor. Because El is considered a commoner, she sleeps on the first floor and is between Lysithea and Annette. She’s tucked behind the stairs, hidden away. Dimitri missed it the first time he was looking for it.

“Is everything ok?” El asks, after a moment. They go up the stairs past the first room that is Ingrid’s towards Dimitri, who sleeps near the end of the rooms. Dedue shakes his head.

“I can hear him in my room,” Dedue whispers, his stern eyes meeting hers. “I fear he is having a nightmare.” If El recalls correctly, Dedue’s room is right underneath Dimitri as Sylvain teased that Dimitri wouldn’t be able to have any fun with a wink towards El, causing them to flush. This had earned Sylvain an elbow from Ingrid. This explains how Dedue can hear his screams. 

“...Is this the first one he’s had?” El asks quietly, not trying to disturb the others in their slumber as they walk down the long hallway.

“Here? Yes.” Dedue answers shortly. 

El stops, turning to Dedue. She grabs his sleeve, making him stop in the middle of the hallway. “He’s been having nightmares?” She questions, astonished. In the four years they were apart, Dimitri never wrote her about having nightmares. 

“They have gotten worse over time,” Dedue says simply as he directs them to keep walking. El sighs, she appreciates Dedue’s silence, but he’s never been forthcoming with information.

They reach Dimitri’s door and she looks at him, “Do you want to stay?” El inquires before she knocks on Dimitri’s door. Dedue shakes his head. 

“Help him.” Dedue states firmly, and he leaves to go back to his room. El watches his broad back almost fill the hallway, leaving her there alone in the darkness.

El exhales, brushing her hair back behind her ear. She knocks on the door softly, barely opening it. “Dimitri?” She pokes her head in through the door. A hand grabs her arm, yanking her in. She yelps as the hand throws her on to the bed, hitting it hard. Dimitri looms over her as she lies on her side, her hips turned back. “Dimitri?” She murmurs softly again. His blue eyes glint in the dark, almost feral like. El swallows, her throat bobbing slightly in fear. 

She punches him in the nose. It’s a quick pull back of her hand, not to cause pain but to shock Dimitri into waking up. “No.” She states calmly. She’s not that kind of girl and this is why she didn’t like Dimitri being so much taller than her. She’s strong, but Dimitri could pin her down with ease.

Dimitri reels back, stumbling. He blinks rapidly, his eyes dilating back to normal. He clutches the bridge of his nose. “El?” He asks, confused. She pushes herself off the bed, looking at him.

“Sorry,” El apologizes, shaking her wrist where Dimitri grabbed her. It'll bruise in the morning but that's of little concern for her. “Dedue said that you were having a nightmare? So he asked for me.” She pats the spot on the bed next to her. Dimitri pushes himself off the ground, standing between her legs. She looks up at him, tilting her head up.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She raises her hand, pulling a Heal spell towards his face to ensure that she broke nothing. She tried to control her punch, but it doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

“I’m sorry he woke you up,” Dimitri responds automatically, sitting down next to her. “I-,” he shakes his head. “It was just about Duscur.” He mumbles, pushing her hand down from his face.

“Did hearing about Lord Lonato bring it up for you too?” El asks, rubbing his hands as he sits down. The Church of Seiros executed Lord Lonato’s on, Christophe, shortly in the aftermath of the Tragedy of Kleiman. He had died for Count Kleiman’s crimes. His name brought unfortunate memories for both of them, it seems.

Dimitri nods, “I- just, it still haunts me to this day, what happened.” Dimitri closes his eyes, as if he is reliving the event. El can almost feel the flames that burned down the clearing, the scent of burnt flesh in the air, and the screams that echoed around them. They were lucky to escape.

“It’s traumatic,” El states. “What happened to us, to this country, it made us realize that we are not immortal.” The fires that raged that day had never left El’s mind either. The depravity of humanity and it’s willingness to blame an innocent country for more power was not a concept unfamiliar to El.

“You don’t seem very affected by it,” Dimitri mutters as he buried his face into El’s shoulder, embracing her. She rubs his back comfortingly. Dimitri lifts her into his lap, and she rests her head on top of his.

“I’ve had time to digest it.” El responds. “Not at the Tragedy of Kleiman...but the Insurrection of the Seven.” Dimitri turns his head to look at her. “Dimitri, I watched as men stormed the palace to seize my father, the Emperor. My father, who was supposedly the most powerful man in all of Fodlan, deposed in a coup by men supposedly loyal to him. I learned that day that power and respect prop up royalty.

“The Tragedy of Kleiman was far more bloody than the Insurrection, but the lessons I took from it were all the same.” She pauses, gathering her thoughts and emotions. She rarely talked about her father, and the Insurrection and she did not want to cry right now. “I wonder what Lord Lonato is looking to gain from this.”

“Ashe doesn’t seem to think he’s malicious,” Dimitri remarks, pulling her hands into his. He presses his forehead against hers.

“Ashe is biased, as most people would be for their own family,” El points out. Ashe is a sweet boy and Lord Lonato was reported to be a dutiful man, but one did not just incite a rebellion without having their reasons. “I’m sure that Ashe loves Lord Lonato and Lord Lonato he but…. They may send us out to face him in the battlefield and I worry how Ashe will respond.”

“I’ll talk to Ashe soon.” Dimitri promises, laying down, pulling El down with him. She relaxes on his chest, and he slides his hand into hers. “Are you ok? Killing that bandit must haven’t been easy for you.” El had killed the bandit that almost killed her in Remire Village had Professor Byleth had not interfered. She cut him down, screaming in the Red Canyon. “He surrendered.”

El turns her head to the side. “He surrendered,” El repeats. It was the first time that she had ever executed someone. All of her kills had been in the heat of battle where her life was in danger if she did not strike back. “I’m fine,” El smiles weakly in the dark. But this was not her first kill. “His last words disturbed me though.”

“It was only a job?” Dimitri comments. The bandit had screamed it just as El raised her axe against him. “You mean to think that someone hired him to attack our training class?” Dimitri asks curiously, tilting his head. 

She faces him, “Perhaps.” El responds, she rubs her eyes trying to rub the sleep away from them, yawning slightly. She looks to the door, trying to decide if she should go back to her room.

Tugging her hand, “Stay here tonight?” Dimitri pleads. She nods, and she settles back down in his arms, resting her forehead against his. She curls into the warmth of his body, enjoying the broadness of his chest and the strength of his arms against her body.

When Sylvain spies her leaving Dimitri’s room in the morning, his teasing lasts for days and any word of it turns their faces immediately red.

* * *

(2nd day of Garland Moon, 1180)

Annette hummed to herself cheerfully as she carried a pile of books borrowed from the library. She had just finished her training session with the professor who claimed that they had no genuine experience with magic meant that she would assign mostly theoretical work for her under Professor Hanneman’s guidance. She had heard most of the titles that Professor Byleth handed to her from the Church’s library, quoted in various leading scholars’ articles around Fodlan, but the opportunity to read those pieces was a privilege that she would rarely have again. 

Turning the corner, she crashes into someone, hard. The books go everywhere, even one landing on top of her head. “Ow!” She whimpers, rubbing it. 

“Sorry,” Caspar apologizes, still standing. He offers a hand to her, pulling her back up to height. He helps her pick up all the books that fell. “I was running to the training field, Alois is helping me with Axes right now and I can’t really miss it.” He looked at one book she had. “ _Theories on Magical Nature_?” He asks. “What does that mean?” He looked at Annette, a thin light blue eyebrow raised.

“Weren’t you going to be late?” Annette answers, but he brushes it off. “Well, um, each individual has a magical nature that they are suited for.” At his blank stare, she elaborates further. “Meaning the type of Reason magic they can use often relates to the type of nature they have. Like, for example, you know Dorothea? She uses Thunder magic while I or Linhardt only use Wind magic, right? That’s because the type of magical nature we have makes us more inclined to use a different spell for Reason magic.”

“Huh,” Caspar raises his arms above his head stretching. “Never really thought it like that before. So this book explores the reason someone may have a certain magical nature, then.” She blinks surprised, Caspar has earned a certain reputation around the monastery for being... unacademic. But with her simple and brief explanation, Caspar has caught on. 

Annette eams, “Exactly.” She rambles on, “There are even some people who speculate that one’s magical nature can change in their life because of a traumatic event.” That kind of research is purely speculative, with few anecdotal examples. It hasn’t been proven yet, but that’s because to induce a traumatic event in someone’s life would be... unethical.

“So like a personality shift?” Caspar asks curiously. Annette nods. “If you already know your magical nature, so why read this book?” Caspar tilts his head, looking at the large stack of books in Annette’s hands. 

“Well, just because I know what my magical nature is doesn’t mean I should ever stop exploring magic,” Annette points out. “When I do something like Wind, like I did against you during the Mock Battle, it’s only because I know how to pull a part of my Wind nature, not all of it. The more I understand, the more I should be able to do and the more I can advance with my spell work.” It’s kind of fun explaining magical theory to Caspar; he might not understand all of it, but at least he’s interested in it.

“Right,” Caspar narrows his eyes, remembering how quickly Annette had knocked him out of the Mock Battle. “I still owe you for that,” he grins. “Well, it was nice chatting with you Annette, but I am so late for Alois’s lesson.” He races off to the training floor, leaving Annette and her stack of books behind.

* * *

(5th Day of Garland Moon, 1180)

“Happy Birthday, Sylvain.” El plops a cupcake in front of him during their breakfast. At his questioning look, “It’s not poisoned, I promise. Annette and Mercedes helped me make it.” Sylvain would deserve it. Even Dimitri is getting exhausted of him teasing El and himself about their late night adventures. He knows Dimitri had a nightmare that night, he could hear him through the walls but the teasing made it easier to pretend it never happened.

“Thanks El,” he breaks into it, finding a berry sauce in the middle. It’s not a bad cupcake, fairly moist, and the berry sauce in the middle is delightful. El’s never been much of a cook, so having Annette and Mercedes’ help while making it is probably what makes it edible. 

“Presents from the others will be later,” El flicks her hair to the side, ignoring his surprised look. He knows that she and Ingrid have been exchanging presents since they were young, typical weapons or books, but he’s never been included in that exchange.

“Presents for me, you shouldn’t have,” Sylvain teased softly. Sylvain was twenty, he stopped getting presents a while ago when he was much younger. His date of birth never really seemed something to celebrate after his crest presented when he was 12. 

El levels a stare at him. “Yes, we should have,” she says pointedly. They’ve had a strange relationship since they went to Duscur together. Sylvain tries to flirt with El, she entertains him barely and they keep going on their merry way. She probably knows the truth about how he feels about Crests and Miklan, but she never confronted it, which he appreciates about her.

“How are you doing?” Sylvain asks, wiping away the crumbs from his face. He’s never been one to indulge in sweet desserts, but this is nice and light. His vices lie elsewhere.

“Is this a serious question or a lead in teasing me with?” El retorts quickly, he has been laying it on a bit thick with the teasing but hey, he needs to remind them that they’re still kids and Dimitri isn’t on the throne just yet.

“A sincere question,” he replies. Everyone came back a little pale from Zanado and the bandit hunting. But Sylvain will ask about who he can. El’s never been one to complain about her troubles, so he needs to ask her about them.

“Well enough,” El shrugs, he can see a question on the tip of her tongue but he just needs to nudge her into asking.

“But…..?”

“The Red Canyon,” she states. “Why do you suppose it’s called the Red Canyon? It’s a canyon, yes, but it’s not red. And why is it a holy site? There is no historical evidence painting it as such.” El furrows her brow, pondering her thoughts. “The architecture there…. it’s unlike any I’ve seen or read about in Fodlan.”

“... And this is why I call you a nerd.” For some odd reason, El has studied the history and architecture of Fodlan extensively. It’s something that she knows like the back of her hand and Sylvain still can’t figure out where she got it from. She certainly didn’t get from Faerghus culture, that’s for sure.

She turns on him, eyes sharp. “Do you take anything seriously?” Her lips purse as she scowls at Sylvain. Someone needs to remind her that she can take breaks once in a while.

“I do, I do. El, it’s probably because it used to be red or something.” Sylvain explains. “And it could just be a name for something that’s never been explained really. What do you want me to say?”

El sighs and brushes away the question. “Any plans for today? If you say flirting with girls, I will smash the rest of your cupcake into your face,” she threatens.

She’ll push and tug Dimitri and Ingrid to want more in life; he knows that she’s behind Ingrid’s desire to become a fully fledged knight regardless of her marital status to Glenn and Dimitri to be more proactive in his inheritance of the throne. Dimitri will most likely claim the throne once he is of age as his father looks as if he’s aged ten years in five since the Tragedy of Duscur. She’ll challenge Felix when he’s gone too far with his harsh words towards anyone really, ignoring the one said about her with ease. With him, she’ll encourage, not his flirting of course, his wants for freedom in his life as he stares down the gauntlet of marriage in his near future.

“Nah,” Sylvain shakes his head. “I think I’ll enjoy it by spending time with you guys today.” As far as he knows, Dimitri has lance training with Captain Jeralt while Ingrid will work on flying with Seteth, Lady Rhea’s stiff necked secretary. El smiles softly, looking away as Sylvain finishes the rest of his actually not bad cupcake.

He knows that she is sincerely not from Faerghus. He has an inkling of where she is from but he won’t ask and she won’t tell, not today at least. It’s his 21st birthday, and it’s probably the best one he’s had yet so far.

* * *

(8th Day of Garland Moon, 1180)

El finds Dorothea, brushing her long brown hair and humming to herself outside of the Golden Deer classroom. “Hello Dorothea,” El greets, walking up to her. “How are you doing?”

“Hi El,” Dorothea trills. “Just waiting for Professor Hanneman’s seminar to start on Reason magic, you?” She smiles charmingly, putting away her hairbrush.

“I am too,” El replies. She flicks her hair to the side. El has really pretty hair, it’s naturally straight and Dorothea knows it because it stays straight when El takes baths. She’s pretty envious of it, her hair has loose curls and while it may look nice when she styles it, it is also a mess in the mornings.

“Say, I didn’t peg you for a magic user,” Dorothea asks. In all honesty, most commoners didn’t have the capability to use magic. She was mocked for a very long time in the streets of Enbarr because she wanted to learn magic.

“Well, I did start off using an axe,” El smiles, sitting down on the bench with Dorothea. “I met Dimitri and the others when I was young and when I was a teenager, I was sent to Fraldarius territory with Felix actually. His father is a Holy Knight and knows Faith Magic,” she explains to Dorothea’s perplexed look. “You’ve met them,” referring to Dimitri, Felix, Sylvain, and Ingrid. “None of them have much of an inclination towards magic, and knowing them, someone had to learn it, particularly Faith magic, so I asked Lord Rodrigue to teach me.”

“Ah,” Dorothea understands. “I do have to agree, I’ve seen Felix in the battle, he’s a bit reckless, isn’t he.” Felix stands out in her mind, completely impervious to her flirting, even rude sometimes. He spends far too much time in the training field that Dorothea even wonders if he’s interested in anyone romantically.

“Hotheaded,” El corrects, brushing her hair over an ear. “Reckless is also a good word for him as well. Ingrid’s honestly the only one who isn’t out of the four of them but she has a tendency to try and overextend herself by looking after them so,” she shrugs, eyes looking to the side.

“But it comes in handy,” El admits. “I don’t think I have much of a proclivity for Faith magic but with Annette only starting out with it, it’s a good thing to have up my sleeve.” Dorothea admires her candor, most nobles she met are hesitant to admit their weaknesses.

“So you’re considered a commoner but you’re engaged to Prince Dimitri,” Dorothea asks. “How did that happen?” She places her chin on her fist. As a commoner, El somehow secured the hand of the future king of Faerghus, a coup for someone of her standing.

“It’s kind of convoluted,” El admits. “I was a distant relative of the King’s second wife. She adopted me when I was young while she was married to the King and I was raised at court with Dimitri as a result.” At Dorothea’s questioning look, “She passed away- at the Tragedy of Kleiman,” she said really quickly with a hitch in her voice and a glossy, far away look in her eyes. “After that, because of the King’s injury, they were worried about the succession line. So it was decided that Dimitri and I should be engaged.”

“Oh,” Dorothea claps her hands together softly. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Dorothea’s own mother had died young and she was left on the street. It seemed that her mother was able to get her into an enviable position as almost royalty. 

El shrugs, “It’s ok,” she smiles palely, looking at her hands. “That’s why I’m considered to be a commoner, although I was raised at court, I have no titles to call my own.”

Annette and Mercedes stroll up to the classroom, sweet buns in hand. El immediately perks up, spying them. “Is that?” Her eyes gleam as she looks at the food in the basket, tucked under Mercedes’ elbow.

“It is,” Mercedes answers cheerfully. “We were finally able to make them in the kitchens.” She offers one to El who took it gladly, tearing a piece off. 

Shoving it into her mouth, El smiles brightly. “I needed this. They’re Faerghus Sweet Buns,” El explains to Dorothea. “One of my favorites from the Kingdom.” She tears a piece off and offers it to Dorothea. “Would you like to try some?”

Dorothea ate the offered piece, chewing it thoughtfully. “This is good,” she remarks. “Did you do a lot of baking growing up, Mercedes?” A little too rich for her but she could see why the others liked it.

Mercedes nods, “I did a lot of bread baking when I was at a church in the Kingdom,” she answers to their confused looks. “It’s a long story.”

Lysithea appeared at Mercedes’ shoulder sniffing the air. “That smells delightful,” she comments, looking at the sweet buns. “What are those?”

“Faerghus Sweet Buns,” Annette chirps, offering another to Lysithea. “Would you like one?” The bun glistens with the sugar glazed over it and Dorothea can Lysithea stare at the dessert.

“Well- only because you’re offering and it would be rude to say no,” Lysithea took one eagerly. She pulls it apart like El showed her. She covered her mouth in delight after putting it in her mouth. She rips another piece off, eating it quickly. “You should make these again some time,” Lysithea says enthusiastically, looking at her fingers for a moment. She thought of it, brushing the crumbs off her uniform.

“I thought it would be a nice treat before Professor Hanneman’s seminar,” Mercedes said smiling. “I’m glad you all enjoyed it so much.” They continue nibbling on the sweet buns, Mercedes has a full basket.

“Do we know who else is attending?” Annette asks curiously, the shorter girl tilting her head.

“Hubert,” Dorothea says automatically. “Maybe Linhardt? If he’s not too busy sleeping?” She guesses, Linhardt, she’s discovered, has an amazing ability to sleep anywhere and not care. He also doesn’t care for normal social conventions, which is good for him, he’s a noble. He can survive subverting them and still be a noble at the end of the day.

“Linhardt is coming,” Mercedes confirms. “I believe he has some questions about Professor Hanneman’s crest research,” Lysithea stiffens slightly. Linhardt is an odd one. She tried flirting with him but he completely brushed her off to the point where she thinks he didn’t even realize that she was flirting. It’s alright, at this point, Linhardt is so obsessed with his research that any relationship with him would be unfulfilling. She doesn’t know how he and Caspar are friends.

“Marianne is at the stables,” Lysithea states begrudgingly. Marianne is also another strange one. She’s a noble but completely unlike any noble at the monastery. She hides away from any human contact and never speaks. 

“I think that’s it,” El confirms. “Just Hubert and Linhardt then.” The Black Eagles class does have a rather large number of magic users, Dorothea notes. They have two Healers in Linhardt and Mercedes and another two magic users in herself and Hubert. However, Hubert and Lysithea are the only ones to specialize in Dark Magic out of the Three Houses.

Lorenz walks into the classroom area and all five of them as if on cue sigh unpleasantly. Lysithea levels a particularly dark glare at the young noble from Gloucester. He brightens immediately at the sight of them and Dorothea rolls her eyes at the sight. She’s considered Lorenz as a potential husband but she’s only had to listen to him once to realize it wouldn’t be a good idea to marry someone she wanted to gag on sight. 

“Hello ladies,” Lorenz plasters on his face what he seems to think is his most charming smile. “How are we doing today?” Dorothea knows a fake smile when she sees one and that one is fake as far as the eye can see. 

“Doing well,” Mercedes answers calmly. “And what are you up today, Lorenz?” She asks politely, with far more self restraint than Dorothea has ever possessed.

“Oh! I thought about attending Professor Hanneman’s lecture today,” he smiles. “He said that he thought a great magical talent was in me and is not a noble’s duty to hone any talents that they possess?”

“Really,” Lysithea grits her teeth, fuming slightly. El edges away from her. Lysithea is powerful and a little out of control sometimes. Dorothea’s seen the training floor after she’s finished with it.

“Yes,” he beams. “After all, my family’s relic is Thrysus, a staff that boosts one’s magical strength and range and what kind of crest-bearing noble would I be if I couldn’t use it properly?”

“Well,” El remarks calmly, placing a hand on Lysithea’s shoulder. “That’s fascinating. Do you happen to know what kind of magical nature you have?” Lysithea glances at El, seeing the serene smile El has on her face. Also fake, Dorothea notes, it seems that Lorenz in the short three months is not popular with any of her fellow magic users.

“No,” Lorenz deflates a little. “But I am sure I will figure it out soon enough. Perhaps you would like to assist me?” El freezes, a smile frozen on her face.

“Perhaps I can help you with that,” Hubert’s silky voice slithers into the conversation. “I am sure that Prince Dimitri’s fiancee is far too busy to help with the likes of you.” He drags a still sleepy Linhardt behind him who seems to have just woken from a nap.

“What a crowd,” Professor Hanneman crows out. “I was not expecting such a group of young students to attend my seminar today.” In an undertone, “Take that Manuela, I am interesting enough.”

* * *

(8th Day of Garland Moon, 1180)

There are a couple of seminars going on today and the students have the choice between attending them, resting, or exploring the monastery. They’ve been allowed to go into live skirmishes but only a few of the students have opted into it, like Caspar or Raphael. 

She and Felix are still preparing for their certification exams that will allow them to study new classes. Ingrid wants to become a soldier and focus on her defense while Felix wants to become a myrmidon and focus on his speed. It seems that Sylvain’s comment about Petra being faster than him rankled him quite a bit.

“Have you written to Glenn yet?” Ingrid asks, exchanging sword blows with Felix. She is a Soldier with an affinity for lances but Professor Byleth recommended the idea of cross training with swords. She’ll still be a soldier but if she wants to be a truly capable knight of Faerghus, she’ll have to be well-trained in all aspects. She and Glenn have talked about it; he thinks it’s a good idea too. They’ve gotten more comfortable as they’ve gotten older, she’s told him what her father was saying- to her shame, he had noticed the change in her letters and her behavior when he visited her in Galatea. 

He didn’t mind it, even understood it but as Glenn will have to become the statesman, she can become a knight, which selfishly, is all she’s ever wanted. She’s addressed with Glenn in their letters, they exchange them monthly if not more ever since she was 11 and he left for Garreg Mach Monastery. But now she’s here and he’s in the Fraldarius Dukedom.

Felix grunts, ignoring her question. Glenn and Felix still have a strong relationship since they were young, Felix going through a moody teenager phase, notwithstanding. She knows that Felix hates their father, Lord Rodrigue, for what he said about Glenn when he was injured in the Tragedy of Duscur. 

She got into a fight with Felix about what he had said to Lord Rodrigue while Glenn lay healing. It was bad enough that Sylvain had to interfere and separate them. They only started talking so soon because Sylvain had run off with El to investigate the Tragedy, leaving them alone with Dimitri, who wasn’t talking either.

“He’s been asking about you,”Ingrid says pointedly, batting away another blow. Ever since Glenn got injured, Felix has endured a lot of pressure to become the next ‘Shield of Faerghus’ to replace his father. She isn’t sure how that will work seeing as how Felix keeps referring to Dimitri as the Boar Prince. But Dimitri, of course, has the grace to ignore Felix’s rude comments, never reacting to his words. “You should write to him.” She parries away another blow, “I’m not going to play carrier owl for you,” she states bluntly. She swings down her sword heavily, aiming for Felix’s shoulder.

“How about you mind your own business,” Felix snaps, disarming her quickly much to her dismay. The training sword flies out of her hand quickly, much to her shame. “I’ll write to Glenn when I want.” It’s not a bad result, Felix’s sole focus has always been on the sword, it’s all he’s ever trained with. It makes him a bit of an oddity in Faerghus, where lances and soldiers reign supreme. 

Ingrid narrows her eyes, staring him down. Felix knows that she’ll toe to toe with him, wit for wit. It’s how she’s managed to keep up with the four of them. “It’s just manners to write someone back,” she retorts. They’ve been at the academy for almost three months and Glenn said that he hasn’t even received a letter from Felix, not even a note. “Don’t you think Glenn wants to hear from you sometimes?”

Felix glares, raising his sword, egging her on for another round.

She storms away, putting away the training sword.

Sometimes, there’s no arguing with Felix. He’s often his way or the highway and won’t listen to any reason. She may have known him since they were young but he can be such a jerk sometimes.

* * *

(15th Day of Garland Moon, 1180)

El’s reading the latest release of _Myths and Legends of Fodlan’s Early History_. It’s supposed to be a groundbreaking book, revealing tales of Fodlan’s creation as a continent but it’s honestly nothing special. It’s early in the morning and the sun has barely risen for an hour. It’s quiet in the library, just how she likes it. 

Tomas, the librarian had let her know that this would be coming in weeks ago and she’s the first one in the library to read it. 

“Hey,” Claude grins, leaning over the shoulder of El, Dimitri’s fiancee, who jerks, slamming the book roughly shut. “ _Myths and Legends of Fodlan’s Early History_ ,” Claude reads off the title. “That sounds interesting.”

El who looks away, avoiding his gaze, answers, “Not really. It’s said to be a groundbreaking book but all it does is rehash all the old legends and repeats another story that’s been told for over a thousand years, never changing.” She slides the book back to the return area for the library.

Claude’s grin grows wide, “You read a lot of books about Fodlan’s past.” El eyes him strangely. She doesn’t read more than anyone else. Ingrid and Ashe read far more books than she does and she’s seen Lysithea toting five books out of the library at least once a week.

El shrugs. “Not more than anyone else,” she responds with a huff. “Ingrid got me into them when we were younger. One of the first books she ever read to me was _Loog and the Maiden of the Wind_.” It’s a fond memory for her. Ingrid reminded her of her sister, Deirdre, who used to read her stories all the time with Frederick and Katarina. She buries her feelings deep down; she’s gotten good at it and she has a feeling that if she cries in front of Claude, he will never let her live it down.

“The what?” He asks curiously. El glances back at him. It surprises her that he doesn’t know the story of the Maiden of Wind, given that it was chronicled that she hailed from Alliance territory. It was in the end a love story between Loog and a woman from the Alliance.

“ _Loog and the Maiden of the Wind_ ,” El answers blankly, she eyes him strangely. “It’s an epic tale of how Loog, the King of Lions, wooed the Maiden of the Wind, in the aftermath of the War of the Eagle and the Lion and the Kingdom of Faerghus’s founding. Ingrid was very upset with me when I told her that I had never heard of it,” she confesses, leaning in with a smile. “It’s a popular children’s story in Faerghus.”

“Really? Makes sense.”

She gets up, scanning the shelves for a bit, plucking a book off the shelves. “Here,” she hands him a gold embossed well-read and well-worn page that reads _Loog and the Maiden of the Wind_. 

“Hefty,” Claude weighs the book in his hand. He flips through the pages of the novel, “Very popular,” he muses, skimming through it.

She tosses her hair behind her shoulder, “Very popular,” El confirms. She looks at him, a little bit more comfortable. “Faerghus loves their tales of chivalry. The Maiden of the Wind is rumored to have been a girl with Crest of Riegan,” she adds.

“If I were interested in a book about Seiros and Nemesis and the War of Heroes,” Claude poses a question, “Where would I find one?”

“Do I look like Tomas to you?” El retorts friendly, referring to the helpful elderly librarian. She pulls books from shelves, handing them to Claude.“You could _Seiros, a Biography._ But only covers the War of Heroes as a part of her life. If you’re looking for more of a fictional telling of the War of Heroes, you could try _The Romance of the Heroes_ but that one has received a lot of controversy for trying to portray Seiros and Wilhelm as lovers. Yes, that’s a thing,” El informs him in response to his bewildered look as she drops another book in the stack. She really didn’t want to talk about it for obvious reasons.

“ _Tale of Seiros and the 10 Elites_ is a good one but honestly, for a legend that occurred more than a thousand years ago, there aren’t many good books telling it. Also, you won’t find them here.”

“Really?” Claude asks, a little disappointed.

“Yup,” El answers casually. “Most of these books are more for historical reading and while the War of the Heroes are an important moment in Fodlan’s history, it’s been a long thousand years. Besides, while the Church of Seiros worships the Goddess, the church doesn’t focus very much attention on its founder.”

A cane tapping alerts them to Tomas’s presence. “She’s right, you know,” he states, referring to El. “The monastery library enjoys the presence of several well-known books but there simply isn’t enough room to house all the books we could ever want. The Church of Seiros chooses the books we have and have felt it more important to focus their collection on other topics.”

* * *

(15th Day of Garland Moon, 1180)

Dimitri finds Ashe in the middle of the church, praying quietly. Since hearing the news of his adopted father’s rebellion, Ashe has been watched by the Knights of Seiros, fearful that Ashe has been instructed to lash out at Lady Rhea. However, Ashe has confessed that he knows not which the grudge that Lord Lonato bears against the archbishop. In fact, this is the first he has heard of Lord Lonato’s grievances against the Church of Seiros. Lord Lonato has ignored any letters Ashe has sent to him, failing to provide some measure of comfort during what must truly be a trying period of time. He’s even reached out to his siblings, who must be terrified waiting in Castle Gaspard for his return, to no avail. 

“Ashe,” Dimitri approaches Ashe as he finishes another hymn that Lord Lonato taught him. 

Ashe jerks, so focused on his prayers, he didn’t realize Dimitri’s presence. He looks up, his green eyes meeting Dimitri’s blue ones. Dimitri gestures to the side, to the opening that leads to the Goddess Tower. 

“How are you faring?” Dimitri asks, walking with him. Ashe hesitates, glancing at him. Word comes each day that Lord Lonato’s rebellion comes closer than ever still to Garreg Mach. It is said that his intentions are to march on Garreg Mach to subjugate Lady Rhea. Ashe can’t imagine such a kind and good man like Lord Lonato ever saying such a thing but then again, he knows where Lord Lonato’s feelings against the church stem from.

In the months after the Tragedy of Duscur, Ashe’s adopted brother Christophe had been executed for plotting the Tragedy of Duscur with Count Kleiman. Because of the turmoil in the Kingdom and the Church’s close proximity to Castle Gaspard, Christophe was captured and turned into the Church of Seiros, where he was quickly executed. Lord Lonsto was grieved for the loss of his son but to Ashe, it had seemed that he had thrown himself into the rearing of Ashe and his siblings. 

Ashe resists the urge to shrug listlessly at his house leader and future monarch. Dimitri’s told his housemates that he didn’t want them to treat him as the Prince of Faerghus and perhaps it was easier for Annette and the others but Ashe could not forget his roots as a homeless grubby orphan who stole to feed his siblings. It was amplified by the casual way that El, Felix, Sylvain, and Ingrid casually treated Dimitri as if they had known him their entire lives, which they did. He was a commoner who had the luck to be adopted by a kind man who caught him stealing from his house. “I am well, Prince Dimitri,” he smiles weakly. “And you?”

Dimitri shrugs, “There have been better days.” He looks over the church walls. “I’ll be frank Ashe, word of Lord Lonato’s rebellion is concerning and not just for the Church of Seiros.” Castle Gaspard sits on the border between the Empire and the Kingdom. For years, Lord Lonato has been entrusted with being the first line of defense for the Kingdom.

Ashe looks away, swallowing and not meeting his eyes. Dimitri continues, “Lord Lonato is a good man. My father has said that even after his son was arrested and executed, Lord Lonato swore fealty to the kingdom and my father.”

“Lord Lonato is a good man,” Ashe scrunched his face up, repeating Dimitri’s words. “I don’t know why he’s doing this, especially now….”

“My father would like to interfere, to speak to Lord Lonato but the church and Lady Rhea forbade it.” Dimitri states frustrated and flatly. “As Lord Lonato has raised up arms against the church, the church has stated that this is their responsibility. The Knights of Seiros will be sent, my father will call for peace and sympathy for Lord Lonato but it’ll be in the church’s hands at this point. I’m sorry.”

Ashe stared at Dimitri who seemed sincerely apologetic. Ashe wringed his hands tightly, his calluses bumping roughly together. “Thank you for saying that.” Dimitri’s head jerked up to see Ashe’s weak smile. “Thank you for taking the time to tell me that you and his majesty believe that Lord Lonato is a good man. I’ll pray to the Goddess that Lady Rhea will show him leniency for his actions and his grief.” He walks away.

The kindness shown to him by Dimitri was appreciated. He was close to Christophe and he would admit around the time that the Tragedy of Duscur occured, Christophe had been acting strangely. To show such sympathy for a man who fathered the son who plotted their death was a strength that Ashe could admire in a man and his future king.

* * *

(15th Day of Garland Moon, 1180)

Caspar smashes an axe heavily into the body of a training dummy. He recently passed his training certification into a Brigand and he was taking advantage of it as much as he could. He had extra help from Linhardt who could probably pass any tests he wanted to, that is to say if he woke up on time for them. He swung the axe, decapitating the dummy after shredding its torso into pieces. He would have to stop soon so he could make more training dummies to replace the ones that he destroyed. It was pretty easy, he just had to get the empty dummies and grab some hay and stuff them until they almost burst. 

“Morning Caspar,” Raphael greeted, lumbering into the training hall. They’ve trained with each other on occasion, both finding similarities in their desire to train and get strong as well as their love for food. 

“Morning!” Caspar greets brightly. Raphael is part of the Golden Deer house and a former merchant. He’s trained into the Brigand class as well and uses Gauntlets. Professor Manuela’s suggested gauntlets for Caspar as well and Caspar is no stranger to using his fists for justice but he’d rather focus on his axe training before going into anything else.

“You up for a quick spar once I get my muscles warmed up?” Raphael asks easily. They’ve trained together before so it’s a pretty easy answer.

“Sure,” Caspar barks back, moving the training dummy out of the way. Raphael is a lot bigger than Caspar but Caspar’s been asking Linhardt for tips on how to take down larger enemies so hopefully Raphael doesn’t mind if he tries them out on him. Raphael finishes his warm up as Caspar goes through another drill that Alois taught him a couple of weeks ago. 

“Ready?” Raphael asks, swinging his arms. 

“Ready,” Caspar confirms. He lets out a big yell as he swings his training axe at Raphael who blocks with his own, pushing back against Caspar. He swings at the axe back at Caspar who dodges by dropping to the floor. Caspar swings the axe upwards, trying to upper-cut Raphael who backs off. Linhardt said the majority of people who are bigger than Caspar are most likely to be slower than him. Raphael might have bigger muscles than Csapar but Caspar can outlast and outpace him.

Professor Manuela raised the idea of becoming an Armor Knight as well and focusing on Armored combat but Caspar likes the idea of being lightweight and yet still powerful. He can take a couple of hits, it’s not going to be getting back up that’s an issue for him. They exchange blows like that for fifteen minutes until Raphael hits his axe so hard it rattles his hands and he drops the axe in pain.

“Gosh!” Raphael apologizes quickly, stopping his axe. “Sorry about that!” 

Caspar shakes the sensation out his hands, “Guess I’ve been here too long,” he guesses, shrugging. He’d been here early in the morning to work on his axe techniques. He had seen a couple of people come and go, including some Blue Lions folks too. 

“Let’s take a break?” Raphael suggests, putting his axe down. 

Caspar nods, Raphael picks up Caspar’s axe setting it to the side. They go grab a sip of water, Caspar enjoys the coolness of the drink, refreshing him. 

“Say, you’re a noble, right Caspar?” Raphael asks between sips. 

Caspar nods, “My father is Count Bergliez, he serves as the Minister of Military Affairs in the Empire. When we go for the Battle of Eagle and Lion in a couple of months, we’ll be going to Gronder Field, which is in the heartlands of my family’s lands.”

“So you’re a big shot noble?” Raphael says, questioningly, his eyes widening.

Caspar shakes his head deftly. “Nope. I’m the second son, I won’t get anything.” It sucks that he won’t have the same advantages as some of the other folks in his class but that’s okay. He’ll just have to work harder to keep up and make a living for himself. Becoming a knight will be a good first step for someone like him.

“Oh.” Raphael ponders the thought for a moment. “So you’re like Ignatz?”

Caspar racked his head for a memory of Ignatz. He was in the Golden Deer house and used a bow. “I guess?” Caspar ventures, remembering the glasses wearing boy.

“Ignatz’s family runs a pretty wealthy merchant business but since Ignatz is the second son, he’s not getting anything either.” Raphael explains, “So that’s why he’s here because his family wants him to become a knight.” Caspar nods, understanding. He guesses that Ignatz is pretty similar to him; they’ll both have to make their own way in the world.

“Say, you were a merchant too, Raphael, right?” Caspar says quickly. “Why didn’t you stay one?” Merchants in the Leicester Alliance had more freedom to move around in comparison to those who operated in the Kingdom and the Empire. For most merchants in the Empire, they are often employed as a part of the dukedom and cannot trade as freely as those in the Alliance.

Raphael shrugs easily. “My parents were merchants but I was never a particularly good one. When my parents died, I had to raise my little sister and I don’t know if I could do it as a merchant. If I become a knight, I can help my sister out a lot more than I could do as a merchant. Maya loves being a merchant though so hopefully my grandpa can pass down his business to her instead.”

Caspar’s expression softens. “I didn’t know your parents were dead.” His father is still alive but his mother passed away when Caspar was real young. He doesn’t remember her very well so it’s always just been him, his brother, his dad and his grandpa with his second wife and their family.

Raphael shrugs again. “It’s alright, they passed away a couple of years ago during a merchant trip. I miss them but I consider myself lucky that I still have my grandpa and Maya around still too!” Caspar has to smile at that. Raphael is upbeat and that’s exactly how Caspar wants to live his life.

“Do you want to keep sparring?” Caspar asks, feeling refreshed and wanting a new change of topic after their break.

“Sure!” They go for their axes again and go into their ready stances. This time it’s Raphael who lets out a big roar, striking first. Caspar lasts longer this time, even disarming Raphael when he leaves himself open using one of Linhardt’s recommended techniques.

“Nice move,” Raphael beams once the axe falls out of his hands. “That one new?”

Caspar nods, “Linhardt showed me.” He’s known Linhardt since they were young. Their fathers are probably the closest out of the seven nobles that made up the Seven. 

“Right, how’s he doing by the way? I saw that he wasn’t really okay when we were hunting down the bandits last month.” Raphael asks. Caspar flashes back to last month, he killed two bandits last month and he didn’t think very much of it until he saw Linhardt’s distraught expression.

“He’s doing better,” Caspar responds, looking down a bit. Linhardt's puked a few times at the sight of blood and Caspar really wants to help him but he doesn't know how. Short of cutting himself open for Linhardt, he doesn't really have any good ideas for his friend. “He’s thrown himself into his Crest research, I know he’s been asking Professor Hanneman a lot of questions so I think he’s doing better. He...just hates the sight of blood,” Caspar whispers as if telling a secret. “Probably why it’s best he’s a healer than a fighter.”

Raphael nods, “I think Ignatz is the same way. He doesn’t like fighting much, I know he was shaken up when we came back from Zanado.”

“Bernadetta was the same way,” Caspar points out. The purple haired girl was extremely shy and stayed away from Caspar, especially when he was yelling. She certainly didn’t like being there either.

“Bernadetta,” Raphael muses, wracking his brain. “Oh, she was the one who made that really good Swift Fish Gratin last month right?”

“Yup!” Caspar confirms. Surprisingly, Bernadetta was a really good cook. She had been helping in the kitchens a lot lately and every single time she did, the food was really good. “It was super good, I went to go tell her that and she passed out. It was kind of weird.” This was in the first couple months that he met her so now he knew better than to approach her with loud noises.

“She wasn’t okay with it either?” Raphael ponders, hefting his axe over his shoulder. “I guess some people just aren’t okay with violence.”

Caspar shrugs, “Some people are. I just see it as it’s either me or them and if they’re not doing the right thing, I have to stop them.” Caspar knows that this is a little bit too straight forward thinking but right makes might, right?

* * *

(18th Day of Garland Moon, 1180)

When Leonie wakes up to do her usual foraging, it’s a mess. She goes early in the morning to hunt and see what herbs she can find outside of the monastery but the mess is inside of the monastery. The Knights of Seiros are raiding one of the Blue Lions’ Room, the small boy named Ashe she believes. The one people were whispering about because he was Lord Lonato’s son. 

Ashe trembles, shaking as he watches the knights upend his room, tossing out books and his mattress, creating a huge mess in general. The tall duscur man who lives next to him tries to interfere but is dismissed quickly with sharp words and a racial slur under breath. 

“Excuse me!” The brown haired girl from the Blue Lions house storms onto the scene, her back standing tall. The one that Claude calls Princess and who’s engaged to Dimitri, future king of Faerghus. She strides in proudly and purposefully, the Knights of Seiros turning to her. 

“What are you doing?” She snaps, her purple eyes blazing as she stares down the knights. “Who ordered this?” She stands in front of the knights and Ashe and Dedue, her shoulders set. It’s kind of impressive, she’s pretty short and the knights tower over her. 

“This is none of your business,” one of the knights snaps, “Stay out of this.” El raises her chin, staring at the knights who are more than half a head taller than her. Leonie sticks around to watch, the knights were getting a little pushy about her leaving the monastery to go hunting and it’s good to see a student push back against them. 

“I don’t think so,” El declares. “What proof do you have to raid Ashe’s room like this? Has he shown any signs of disloyalty?” She takes a step forward as the knight she was speaking with took a step back. 

She narrows her eyes. “Dedue, if you wouldn’t mind getting Prince Dimitri,” she emphasizes clearly, turning her head towards the large man. “I think he would like to know about this.” The tall Duscur man nods and heads towards the stairway that leads to the second floor of the dorms.

The knight pales underneath his armor but blusters forward. “We are searching the room of someone who is associated with a known traitor,” he spat, holding his ground.

“A known traitor?” El questions calmly. “I wasn’t aware that King Lambert declared Lord Lonato a traitor nor has Lady Rhea.” She states eerily still. Leonie gets chills down her spine watching the scene as El confronts the knights conducting the search.

“I’ll have to write to the King then,” she smiles dimly. “Have you found anything?” She tilts her head to the side, glancing at the men who stopped rummaging through Ashe’s room. 

“I have to imagine the way you’re searching his room means that there had to be some evidence involving Ashe.” Silence answered her statement. “I see,” she nods. “If you gentlemen haven’t found anything, I think it’s time to put Ashe’s room back together. It’s so early in the morning and we still have classes.” She smiles, glancing back at Ashe. “Unless you’d like to call into question both Prince Dimitri and King Lambert’s judgement.”

The knight stammers, a garbled mess. Dimitri arrives quickly with Dedue in tow, first taking a look at El, then at Ashe, and then at Ashe’s ruined room. A dark expression comes over his face, narrowing his eyes at the scene. 

“I think it’s time for you to leave,” Dimitri declares swiftly as he steps forward, standing next to El. “That’s enough of this.” Leonie doesn’t care for Alliance politics and she definitely doesn’t care about Kingdom politics but having a standoff with the prince of Faerghus is definitely something that no one wants.

The knights leave in a rush as El kneels down picking up Ashe’s books. Leonie steps in to help, having watched the entire scene. She’s worked with Ashe a little bit on bows. He’s a nice kid who wants to be a knight so he can make his family proud. He’s not a bad sort and definitely not someone she would ever think would be a traitor.

“Take him to my room,” El asks Dedue quietly, nodding towards Ashe who remains still and almost on the edge of tears. She hands him a book, which Leonie reads, _Loog and the Maiden of the Wind_. “See if you can get him to read this, we’ll explain to Professor Byleth what happened.” With little protest, Ashe and Dedue head back down towards El’s room, which is close to Leonie’s. This leaves El, Dimitri, and Leonie to clean up the mess. Her schedule is completely ruined for the day but that’s alright. It’s just one day.

They quickly put back together Ashe’s room, a stack of books on his desk and his letters tucked neatly in a stack of papers. Despite the mess they caused, it didn’t take too long to put it back together. 

* * *

(22nd Day of Garland Moon, 1180)

When El wakes up, there is a small vase of carnations in front of her room with a book of Monarch Studies underneath. It is still early in the morning, she woke up to start training before the sun rose. Her throat catches. She has not celebrated her birthday since she was nine, ever since she left the Empire with her uncle. 

She takes the small vase and the book, placing them both on her desk. Perhaps since it is her birthday, she will take the morning off.

* * *

(22nd Day of Garland Moon, 1180)

“Petra darling, you really should be more careful,” Dorothea muses as she heals over Petra’s wounds that she earned during the battles with the bandits near Garreg Mach Monastery. She’s picked up Faith Magic during her instruction time with Manuela even though she’s not particularly skilled with it. However, any time spent with Manuela, when she isn’t drunk, is not time wasted. 

Manuela promised that while Dorothea’s strength was in Reason Magic that with her efforts, she would make her as well rounded as possible, which is also why she’s been having Petra tutor her with sword fighting. Petra passed her certification exam to become a Myrmidon while Dorothea became a Monk class. Not an actual monk though, any attempts at celibacy would be wasted on her.

“These wounds make me stronger,” Petra points out. They’ve just finished another round of bandit slaying with a couple of other students in tow. Felix, Annette, Mercedes, Caspar, Claude and Raphael came along too. Any wounds they sustained are being attended to by Mercedes and Annette who have a much softer touch when it comes to Faith Magic and healing as evidenced by Petra’s wince when Dorothea stops concentrating.

“Sorry!” Dorothea apologizes, refocusing her healing. Petra is extremely fast so all the wounds she has are not deep but she does have several because she sacrifices her defense for her speed. It worries Dorothea because Petra is far too pretty to have so many scars on her. 

“It is fine,” Petra soothes. “In Brigid, we would let these wounds heal over time as evidence of our strength and courage.”

“Well you’re not in Brigid anymore,” Dorothea points out, moving to another wound. “In Fodlan, we try to keep ourselves from not getting cut up like paper.” She does have to admit, ever since she joined the Officer’s Academy, she has gotten stronger with her magic. She’d love to see the nobles who turned her down see her now, well equipped with Thunder and almost proficient enough to use Thoron in battle. She could light up those bastards if they ever approached her.

Petra freezes and looks away. Shit. “I didn’t mean it like that,” Dorothea apologizes quickly. “I just mean to say that you should be more careful Petra darling. Just because these wounds right now are healable doesn’t mean in the future, they’ll always be.” She guides Petra’s face to look at her by placing her non-healing hand under her chin. “You would look wonderful with those scars but I do wish you’d be more careful.”

Petra nods, still silent. Dorothea continues her healing by her side.

* * *

(30th Day of Garland Moon, 1180)

The fog is thick in the Magdred Way, a day away from the Monastery. Lord Lonato’s rebellion was beginning to falter even though more and more people joined his cause. The Knights of Seiros left earlier that month to cripple the rebellion and their classes were sent to oversee the aftermath of the rebellion.

There were attempts to excuse Ashe from this part of the mission as most knew that if Lord Lonato was captured, he’d most likely face the same punishment that his son faced. Ashe stayed stubborn and Lady Rhea refused. So they stick close, trying to see their way through the dense fog. This time, they’re split up between teams of five. Lysithea is paired with El, Dimitri, Dedue, and Ashe, the adopted son of the man leading this rebellion.

It isn’t as if she is afraid of the fog but she stays decidedly close to El as they progress through the forest. Professor Hanneman and Manuela were with Cassandra and the other two knights of Seiros members that came along with the vanguard. She keeps a Miasma close to her fingertips, ready to unleash it on any foolish soul who goes after her. They were chosen for the variety in their skills. Each group has at least one healer and a teammate that can either move fast or strike hard. 

“Can you feel it?” El murmurs to Lysithea, who stays close to her elbow. “The magic in the air?” She glances back, her purple eyes meeting Lysithea’s pale pink ones. 

“The fog,” the realization dawns on her. “It’s not natural.” She can feel it, the heavy feeling that weighs down on her. “Not the season for it anyway.” It’s summer in Fodlan, the fog usually appears in the fall or winter. “Someone’s conjuring it.” Which is impressive to summon enough fog to cover such a large area like Magdred Way. 

“We find who is conjuring it,” El says with a tight smile, “We remove the fog.” She hasn’t talked very much to El since they first met even in the three months they’ve been at the Monastery together. She hasn’t had time. A thrill goes down her spine as Lysithea realizes that there is a way to remove this damned fog that makes it so hard for her to see.

A shriek emanates from the back where Professor Byleth had her team located. A clang of swords meeting and the tell tale sign of Wind magic being summoned as the trees billow and sway. Then it’s chaos.

Lysithea blows a man up with a Miasma even before he approaches Dedue with a heavy swing of his sword. Dedue looks back at her impressively in thanks. She knows that she’s small but it doesn’t mean that she can’t pack a punch. The defensive positioning that Byleth placed them under works well. Ferdinand, the Black Eagles’ House Leader is stationed near the front with Leonie and Raphael, two of the hardest hitting members of the Golden Deer House. They’re accompanied by Petra, who Lysithea has seen in action and she is extremely fast with Hubert who also knows Dark Magic like her. He isn’t as good as she is with it but he can definitely take more hits. 

They’re more in the middle of the five groups with Hilda’s group flaring to the left as they continue on. “Got em,” Caspar crows loudly as the fog clears almost immediately. It was magic as they suspected.

“Ashe!” Dimitri cries as the archer in their group breaks ranks. The grey haired teenager darts through their enemies, ignoring the cries of his classmates. An enemy pauses in her strike, stopping as she recognizes him. 

“Lord Ashe?” Recognition dawning her eyes, she does not dodge as Dedue knocks her out with the butt of his axe as he chases Ashe. Feeling vulnerable, Lysithea edges towards them as El and Dimitri cover their back. 

“Lonato,” Dimitri growls. Lance in hand, he follows them, leading the way. Lysithea stays close behind while El brings up the rear, as they take point from where most of the groups were. They follow Ashe through the trees, staying close to each other. Lysithea wishes that she could spare their lives but she can’t risk any mistakes. Her parents are relying on her to come back alive. She strikes another, a particularly large man, with a Swarm to ensure that he can’t come back to haunt her. El keeps pace with her, staying close even though Dimitri and Dedue have gone far ahead. 

“Come on,” El murmurs as they push ahead. She’s slung the axe to her side as she wields Fire magic close in her hands. They run through the woods, the fog has cleared but the trees are thick enough to barely let the sunlight come through.

They spy the others near a structure, Dimitri’s blue cape making him distinct in the chaos. They weren’t supposed to be this involved in the fighting, Lysithea thought. Claude said they were only supposed to be part of the aftermath where Lord Lonato was supposed to be defeated and any stragglers would be taken into custody of the Church. 

“Lonato,” Ashe pleads. “Please stop this.” He waves his hands towards the chaos, towards the dead bodies of the people he had known who raised him. “Is this what you really wanted?” 

“The church must pay. Rhea must pay.” Lonato growled. “They murdered Christophe!” He roared, “My son!” Lonato has green eyes and long white hair like hers, except that he has reached an age that Lysithea has no hope of ever reaching, that is pushed back, showing his forehead. “The witch will die! She has fooled everyone and has desecrated the goddess.”

El holds Lysithea back, watching the situation. Due to the Knights of Seiros whittling down the numbers of the rebellion throughout the month, the classes were able to make their way slowly to where Lonato’s men were centered around. Dedue has caught up to Ashe, remaining silent as Ashe confronts Lord Lonato.

“Lord Lonato,” Dimitri’s deep voice heeds, echoing through the clearing. “You must end this,” he commands. His stern expression reveals no fear or hesitation. 

“Your highness,” Lonato greets as if he wasn’t feverishly wishing for Lady Rhea’s death just a moment ago. “I’m sorry we had to meet in these circumstances, I wish they were better.”

“As do I,” Dimitri responds. “You cannot continue this rebellion, Lord Lonato. It is failing as we speak.” He pauses, “Why not go to my father?” Dimitri murmurs, softly. “He would have listened.”

Lonato scoffs, “The king is a good man but even he can’t stand up to the Church. I had no choice.” He narrows his eyes, furrowing his brow. “Thunderstrike Cassandra!” He roars, Catherine has entered the clearing, wielding the Thunderbrand.

“Lonato,” Catherine utters in a low deep voice. Her blue eyes met his green. She raises Thunderbrand, gripping it tightly in her hand. 

The hatred in Lonato’s eyes ran deep as El pulls them closer to Dimitri while Lonato’s attention was on Catherine, murmuring lightly to each other. She can’t hear them talk but now all the attention is focused on Catherine versus Lord Lonato. Lysithea keeps a Swarm spell close at hand but everyone is waiting for them to act. This is the turning point of the rebellion.

Lonato rears his horse, dashing out the clearing past Ashe and the others, straight towards Catherine. She grips her sword tightly, slashing upwards as Lonato tries to shove a steel lance deep into her chest. The horse falls but Lonato jumps off in time, unscathed, charging towards Catherine once more. Catherine prepares to meet him. An arrow flies as Ashe strikes down the man who raised him in the back, an arrow through his neck. 

Tears stream down his face, as he lowers his bow. It is done. This short-lived rebellion is over.


	10. Part II Chapter V

* * *

(30th Day of Garland Moon, 1180)

Mercedes was in the group that ran point when the fog was still up as it was Caspar who killed the man who summoned the fog. However, when the fog fell, she saw Lysithea’s team race out near the front. She resisted the urge to follow because as Professor Byleth instructed; it was important to stay with your team in order to survive. They reach the clearing just as Lord Lonato falls to Ashe’s arrow. 

El takes Ashe in hand as he collapses and sobs into the ground. She pries the bow out of his hands, handing it over to Dimitri. Dedue approaches as Ashe wails. She had heard Lord Lonato adopted that Ashe and while she’ll never speak ill of her adopted father; Ashe had a much closer relationship to Lord Lonato than she could ever have with hers. Dedue holds him tight as Ashe shivers in his arms. He’s sobbing into his shoulder, the wails muffled by Dedue’s armor. 

Catherine looks away regretfully from the scene. She orders the Knights of Seiros who accompanied them to help round up the survivors with the students. Now that Lord Lonato fell, those who followed him and survived would hopefully surrender peacefully.

Little Lysithea looks awkwardly at the scene and turns to leave them and joins their group, which Hilda led. Hilda didn’t want to leave the team, claiming that it was too much responsibility, but it was her who chided Caspar when she had noticed that he had overextended. She heeded him to pull closer to their ranks. Hilda swings an arm around Lysithea’s shoulders comfortingly, murmuring in her ears, as they rejoin the others. 

Dimitri stands alone, unmoving as he stares at Lonato’s corpse. Such tragedy happened in this forest, Mercedes mourns. Needless death. She gets pulled into healing duties, taking care of any stray wounds that had to go untreated during battle. She attends a wound that Hubert sustained while protecting Ferdinand, keeping her Faith magic tightly under her control. 

Clean up goes easily. Once they realize that Lord Lonato died, his militia surrenders their weapons. They make their way back to the monastery, only a day’s journey away. Now that the mission is over, the groups break up into their usual classes and friends as they absorb the events of the mission. 

As members of the Officer’s Academy, death would become a familiar face to them. The members of the Blue Lions house who were not with the Prince hang back, waiting for a sign of their return. As Mercedes moves around to see if anyone needs additional healing, former enemy or friend, she sees the bright blue cape of Dimitri approaching, his hand tightly clasped with El’s, who stays close. Ashe has driven himself to exhaustion it seems, as Dedue carries him back in his arms; his body small compared to the broadness of his chest.

It’s a quiet and long journey back to the monastery as their mission is complete.

* * *

(1st Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1180)

Dedue deposits Ashe in his room, still sleeping. Tear marks stained his face as his weary limbs fell slack. El pokes her head in, her face watching Ashe with a slight tinge of regret and waves Dedue over.

“Just a quick House meeting,” El says hushed to Dedue. “Dimitri’s meeting with Lady Rhea, Seteth, Professor Byleth and the other professors and house leaders. He’ll meet us in the training hall afterwards.” She leads him over to the training field.

“No one’s too tired?” Dedue asks, slightly astonished. They marched through the night, making their way back to Garreg Mach Monastery. Perhaps it was the emotions that made him exhausted, but he felt almost ready to collapse.

El shrugs, “We are, but this is more important.” They walk in silence over to the training hall where the rest of their class waits.

Annette smiles grimly, lacking her usual cheer. She had been in the back of the class with Professor Byleth, Ignatz, Marianne, and Bernadetta so she wasn’t there to watch Ashe kill Lord Lonato. But she saw everyone’s expressions afterwards, and that told the entire story.

Felix’s dour expression greets them, one more cheerless than usual, as his trademark war bun is missing a few strands not secured in place. He looks tired, but his stubbornness keeps him awake.

Sylvain’s attempt at cheer falls flat as even Ingrid refuses to respond to his remarks, pulling her knees close to her chest. Sylvain has heavy bags under his eyes and a fake smile on his face. This mission will stay with them for a lifetime. 

“How’s Ashe?” Annette inquires, looking at them. On the way back, she had spent time with Mercedes and knew of what had happened and she was devastated for Ashe. He spoke so many times of his reverence for Lord Lonato, and to be the one to strike him down must have been ... difficult for him.

“Sleeping,” Dedue answers stiffly. El looks around them all, judging their expressions. In Dimitri’s absence, she will lead this conversation. 

“Thank you for being here,” El starts. “I know it’s been a long day for everyone, but I wanted to address what happened last night.” She kneels down with the rest of them, if she keeps standing she will fall over.

“We put down a rebellion for the church,” Felix surmises, woodenly. His expression meets the wall, not seeing anyone else. His expression is stiff, far more unfriendly than his face has ever shown.

“We did,” El confirms, nodding. “But that isn’t all we did.” They slaughtered a militia who was following the orders of their lord and villagers who knew Lonato and supported his cause, all on Rhea’s orders. For someone who wasn’t a believer in the Church of Seiros, this could be a bitter pill to swallow. For Dedue, DImitri had ordered him to follow Lady Rhea's commands so he did.

“Why was Lord Lonato so angry at the church?” Annette asks quickly, her blue eyes begging for answers. They all sit on the ground, their exhaustion a bit too much for them to remain standing.

“He accused Lady Rhea of being a witch and an infidel,” Ingrid states, still in shock. ‘Those are strong words to be saying about the archbishop of the Church of Seiros.” As Archbishop, Rhea was the leading power of the Church of Seiros. While there were several branches of the church, she was in charge of the central church and thus wielded the most power. “And something about Christophe Gaspard.”

“I remember Christophe,” Sylvain says weakly. “He came to court a couple of times with his father, never for long but he seemed like a good guy.” Sylvain rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, his usual playful stance gone. Because Dedue had joined the court after the Tragedy of Kleiman, his understanding of the Faerghus politics was not his strongest suit. He left that to Dimitri and El.

“They accused him of participating in the Tragedy of Kleiman,” El says stiffly and everyone’s expression tightens. They all know it. They all know what happened and how it affected their lives in different ways. “It was right after they executed Count Kleiman. The Kingdom was still in chaos. And they discovered that Christophe had been writing to Kleiman, helping him plan the Tragedy.” El states calmly, her hands going into fists on top of her knees. “The Church captured him and they had him executed.”

Sylvain looks at her. “That can’t be right,” he responds. “It wasn’t the Royal Guard? Did he not get a trial?” In the aftermath of the tragedy, everyone received a trial by nobles. They reserved the right to be judged by their peers, and Count Kleiman and his cohorts received no less.

El shakes her head. “There wasn’t time apparently. The shock of a noble plotting the death of his own king was a lot for most. Kleiman had a trial and they found him guilty, and they executed him. And if they found letters between Christophe and Kleiman, Christophe must have been guilty by association.” She looks away. The days after the trial were chaotic as far as Dedue recalled. 

After the accusations against the Duscur people occured, King Lambert reached his hand out to the Duscur Queen who accepted it graciously. They kept him at the Fhirdiad Court as an exchange of goodwill as he taught ways to grow crops in the cold winter ground and he swore himself to fealty as a vassal to Dimitri. He hasn’t looked back ever since.

“Without a trial,” Ingrid murmurs. Out of the six of them, Ingrid is the closest to Faerghus knighthood ideals. As the future king, Dimitri espouses them but the rest of them have very strong feelings towards them. Felix is the most outward negative about them, disparaging them at any chance he can get. Sylvain chooses to not take any of them seriously. El opts not to comment on them but will not dedicate herself to them either. 

Annette looks down into her lap, her hands wringing tightly. “So Lord Lonato blamed the church?” Annette looks around, questioningly. “He had nothing against the Kingdom?” The days were a blur as Dedue mentioned. He wrote several letters to his family informing them of what he had gotten himself into, but he was kept quite isolated from outside the Royal Family and the three of them. He remembers being looked at as less than human. 

“King Lambert said no,” El shakes her head, “Dimitri wrote to him, asking what grievances Lord Lonato could have against the Royal family; this stems from the Tragedy of Kleiman and potentially the Church’s quick judgement against Christophe Gaspard,” she declares flatly.

The door pushes open and they all look at it, seeing Dimitri, his normally well-kempt hair a mess. “There’s been a development,” he informs them bitterly. “They found a letter on the body of Lord Lonato. There is to be an attempt on Lady Rhea’s life during the Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth.” He looks to Dedue. “How is Ashe?” He kneels down on the floor with them, looking exhausted as the rest.

“Sleeping,” Dedue answers immediately. Ashe had slept the entire time they walked back to the monastery, a reason for concern if not for the events of the past month and day. 

Dimitri nods, “It’s unofficial but I believe our mission this month is to help with the security of the Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth.” If Dedue recalls correctly, the Rite of Rebirth is a ceremony in which they open the monastery doors to the public as Lady Rhea and any believers pray for the return of the Goddess. It will take place near the end of the month.

* * *

(4th Day of the Blue Sea Moon, 1180) 

Caspar stews over the events of last month’s mission so much, he forgot it was his 17th birthday just after the mission ended. Mercedes even made him a cake that day, even though she seemed so tired that she was about to fall over.

He knows that she usually hangs around the kitchen and the church, so he wanders around the monastery, looking for her. It was a great cake too, a nice rich dark chocolate cake. “Mercedes!” He calls out when he spies her leaving the church with Annette from the Blue Lions house. She’s really nice too, trying to explain magical theory to him. Unfortunately for her, he’s a lost cause, and he’s told her as much when she keeps at it. He rushes over when she looks around, trying to see who called her name. “Mercedes,” he grins, breathlessly.

“You go on ahead without me, Annie.” Mercedes smiles gracefully, her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulder. “Hello Caspar,” she greets, friendly as ever.

“Hey,” Caspar grins. “I wanted to say thanks for the cake. You didn’t have to make it for me.” It wasn’t as if it was a huge cake, but Caspar hasn’t celebrated his birthday really in years. It wasn’t that important in his family is all.

“It was no problem at all,” Mercedes responds airily. “I like making sweets and you’ve been so nice to me since we joined the monastery.” She pushes back a blonde lock behind her ear, smiling cheerfully.

“Really?” Caspar tilts his head. He hasn’t treated Mercedes any differently than he did anyone else. She was just another member of his house, no more, no less. Maybe he should put more thought into how he treats other people, like Linhardt said he should.

Mercedes nodded, “You’ve always been nice and I appreciate it.” Caspar flushes a little from the compliment.

Caspar rubbed the back of his head, “Well, I don’t try to treat people any different just because of who they are,” he frowns. He really didn’t try to treat anyone special. Like Ferdinand, he may be the heir to the Empire, but Caspar certainly didn’t treat him any differently than he would say, like Raphael. “You’re just Mercedes, a really nice person.”

Mercedes smiles, brightly, her face glowing. “That’s a nice thing for you to say.”

“Yeah,” Caspar perks up. “I even forgot that it was my birthday because….you know.” Stopping Lord Lonato’s rebellion, Caspar didn’t feel great about it. He didn’t know why Lord Lonato was rebelling, he wasn’t sure whether Lord Lonato was right, but seeing Ashe and the people who survived made Caspar feel weird. It just seemed so pointless, all those deaths. 

Mercedes nods, agreeing. “That mission was... difficult,” she states calmly hesitating. “But baking your cake let me take my mind off it for a little so it was an enjoyable distraction from the thoughts.”

“How are you doing, by the way?” Caspar asked. “Like, I’m ok with all the killing,” he waves a hand at it. “But Linhardt hates it and that’s why Professor Manuela has him focusing more on Faith magic and staying away from the front lines.” Mercedes was a talented healer in the Black Eagles whose talents with both Faith and Reason magic was impressive. He could take the violence, even reveling in it sometimes. But he got that some people didn’t like the violence, like Linhardt, or even Mercedes. 

“I would rather stay away from the front lines as well,” Mercedes agrees, “But I’d rather be able to protect my friends and family than see them fall so I understand why we are taught to take lives. In the end, I suppose I can pray to the Goddess to take care of them when they pass.”

* * *

(6th Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1180)

Bernadetta hums to herself cheerfully as she sorts through the wares of the merchant visiting the monastery. It’s a rare day outside where she doesn’t feel too stifled with everyone’s eyes on her. She spies a really nice dark yellow tin of paint that makes her feel warm inside. It’s not necessarily the color of the sun but somehow the burnt yellow color makes her feel good.

She reaches for it but collides with another hand reaching for it as well. She shrieks, not expecting the contact. 

“Sorry!” Ignatz apologies loudly, reaching his hand back. “I didn’t see you reaching for it.”

Bernadetta shakes, her limbs feeling tight. Ignatz doesn’t seem to see that as he keeps talking. “You can have it Bernadetta, I can look for other colors to paint with.”

“You like art?” Bernadetta asks as she stops shivering.

Ignatz smiles brightly, “It’s one of my favorite things in the world,” he states. He deflates a little, “My parents aren’t as supportive, so it’s nice I can be here and do some art as a side hobby and they won’t know about it.”

“Your parents don’t want you to become an artist?” Bernadetta asks, feeling a kinship with her fellow archer. She knew all about restrictive parents and how awful they could be at times.

Ignatz shakes his head, “They want me to become a knight of a noble family so they can build up trade ties with them. They’re merchants you see and they’re always looking for the best deal.” He looks at her, smiling “You can have that color, Bernadetta. It’ll probably come more in handy for you.”

“I don’t paint!” Bernadetta says, coming out louder than expected, she slaps her hands over her mouth, not expecting the volume as Ignatz walks away. “I just liked the color. I draw more, really.” The words slip out of her mouth. “So you can have it, Ignatz.”

“Are you sure?” Ignatz questions, looking back at her. She shrinks underneath his gaze. “Stay here and let me go talk to the merchant.” He walks off to talk to the owner of the stall. 

Bernadetta stays rooted to the spot; she’s tempted to leave, but she doesn’t want Ignatz to hate her so she stays. He’s gone for some time, but she stays still and doesn’t move a single inch. She may have stopped breathing at some point.

He comes back with two of the same paint tins that they were discussing. “The merchant had more,” Ignatz explains. “I asked about them and he said this wasn’t a very popular color and I asked if I could purchase two of them.” He grins broadly, “One for you and one for me,” he hands the tin to him.

“Did you pay for both of them?” Bernadetta asks, appalled. “I can’t let you do that!” She’s not close to Ignatz but her parents always told her to never let anyone pay her way for her. She pulls out her hedgehog purse. 

Ignatz waved away her wallet. “I also haggled with the merchant so it was pretty much two for the price of one. You don’t need to worry about it Bernadetta,” Ignatz insisted. “If you don't mind me asking, why do you want this color if you’re not going to use it for painting?”

“Huh?” Bernardetta falters and flushes. “Oh, it’s a nice color,” Bernadetta looks away, avoiding eye contact. “It kind of makes me feel warm inside.”

“I see,” Ignatz nods. “It’s a pretty comforting color,” he pauses for a second, examining it closer. “..Kind of reminds me of Raphael’s eyes.”

“I-what?!” Bernadetta squeaks, she wasn’t expecting that as an answer. She flushes red, heat gathering high on her chest and face.

“Sorry,” Ignatz apologises. “I’ve just known him since we were kids and this color does remind me of him a lot.” He deflates a little, “It was nice chatting Bernadetta.”

That was supposed to be her line, Bernadetta thinks, as she watches Ignatz retreat. She looks over the tin of paint that Ignatz purchased for her. She didn’t think that it matched Raphael’s eyes that much, Raphael’s eyes were more of a blondish yellow while this color was more of dandelion yellow. 

Raphael was nice and loud. He was a kind of Caspar loud but he complimented her cooking a lot. What she really wanted to do for him was to make a shirt that actually fit him, but there was no way she could actually bring herself to talk to him about it. But still, it was nice for Ignatz to buy the tin of paint for her. 

* * *

(6th Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1180)

Dorothea calls down another Thoron, frying yet another bandit. For their free day every week, she opted to go out and beat up some bandits. It was almost disturbing that there were enough bandits to beat up almost every weekend that the monastery paid them for it. A couple other students came too, Ingrid, Petra, Felix, Caspar, Leonie, and Lorenz. 

“Watch out!” Ingrid yells as Dorothea notices a bandit sneaking up on her. Dorothea dodged the axe swing as Ingrid parried the blow, lancing the bandit with her own.

“Thanks,” Dorothea says gratefully. She hadn’t even noticed the bandit sneaking up on her.

“Keep your eyes up,” Ingrid warns, jerking the lance out of the bandit’s dead corpse. “Seems to be more than usual today.”

“Got it,“ Dorothea says, pulling up another Thunder. With her fingers splayed out, she concentrates, blowing up another bandit. 

Between the seven of them, they make quick work of the bandits. Having been the only magic user who went for the auxiliary battle, Dorothea has her hands full healing any wounds that needed looking at. With Manuela’s help, she’s discovered a hidden talent in Faith magic and has been using it accordingly. 

She fixes everyone up pretty quickly, Leonie thanking her and Felix ignoring her. Caspar is his usual cheerful self, showing his appreciation for the quick fix. She saves Ingrid for last as Ingrid insists that everyone go before her, bandaging up a real nasty sword wound.

“Thanks for the warning earlier,” Dorothea says, unwrapping the bandage. It’s not a deep wound but Dorothea will have to use up the last of her magical power to heal it. 

Ingrid shrugs, removing her shirt revealing an undershirt underneath. She hears a yelp in the background as Lorenz looks away quickly. Dorothea rolls her eyes. “It’s like Professor Byleth said, we should all look out for each other.”

Ingrid raises her arm, flexing it. Dorothea watches entranced as the muscle contracts and stiffens, raising her hand feather light, summoning the magic to it. “That’s true,” Dorothea smiles wanely. “I guess it makes all the killing worth it.”

“You had trouble with Lord Lonato?” Ingrid asks quietly. The others wait around as Dorothea finishes up the healing for Ingrid.

Dorothea shakes her head wildly, her curls floating around. “Just the senseless amount of death, I suppose. You didn’t?” She had to go through a lot just for a chance to attend the Officer’s Academy, but she wasn’t expecting the amount of death she would experience. 

Ingrid pauses, choosing her words carefully. “In Faerghus, they prepare you early as a knight. Even if you don’t become a knight, you experience the training very early on. At this point,” she muses, “It’s all muscle memory.”

“I see.” Dorothea brightens, lifting her hand away from Ingrid’s arm. “All done, we should head back to the monastery soon.” She doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to all the death and killing comes with being a part of the Officer’s Academy.

* * *

(13th Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1180)

Felix concentrates on the dummy, practicing his Wrath Strike that Professor Byleth showed to him weeks ago. He failed his Mercenary certificate exam last week, and he doesn’t want to do it again. It irritates him because Sylvain and Ingrid have already passed theirs, becoming a Cavalier and Pegasus Knight, respectively. Dimitri wants to become a Lord, so he’s taking his time to review battalions and sword techniques. Annette passed into a Mage class weeks ago and El is still trying to decide between becoming another Mage or going into a Brigand class like Dedue. Ashe is taking a bit of time off and hasn’t passed into his Archer class like he was planning. 

Killing those bandits didn’t bother Felix; he was already used to the battlefield when he served as a page when Sreng invaded Gautier territory a few years ago. Blood and death doesn’t phase Felix, it only makes him stronger.

He practices a few swings, slicing the dummy up. Another concern he has is that he still hasn’t bested Professor Byleth despite their weekly sparring sessions. Every time he thinks he has the upper hand on them, they pulls out another move, knocking him flat on his butt. He ends his drill by jamming his sword deep into the dummy’s chest. 

Light clapping erupts from behind him as he spots Hilda sitting down watching him boredly. “Oh wow, that was impressive,” she gushes sweetly. Felix eyes her; of all the students at the Officer’s Academy, she might be worse than Sylvain in the ways that he tolerates her. Lazy and irresponsible, a poor combination. At least Sylvain was just irresponsible.

“Do you need something?” Felix asks disdainfully. He jerks his sword out of the dummy. That dummy is done for as he sheathes his sword. 

“Not really,” Hilda examines her nails. “I’m just here for a training session with Alois in like fifteen minutes that Professor Hanneman set up for me,” she says airily. “He wants to work on axes with me or something,” she flips her hair. “Oh, I know! I heard from Sylvain that you were looking to work on axes too. Do you want to take my session over with Alois? I’m sure that it would come more in handy for you than it would for me.” 

It’s a tempting thought. He could work on his axe skills with Alois, one of the Knights of Seiros. Alois may seem like a bumbling fool at times, but he is one of the premier Knights of Seiros. 

“No,” Felix turns it down. She’s only using him to try to get out of work and he won’t be here for it. “Enjoy your training session,” he says roughly, leaving the training hall to a pouting Hilda. No point in staying if Hilda would do her best to pawn off her work to him.

* * *

(13th Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1180)

El sits, perched daintily in Dimitri’s lap as she read another treatise on the politics of Fodlan. Dimitri was taking a nap in the grass and had pulled her down ‘to keep him warm’ as he put it. If he hadn’t been sleeping well since Lonato’s failed rebellion, El would have left him there. The faint scratching of a quill keeps her focused as she continues to take notes on her reading. This is just one of the latest books that El borrowed from the library. The Rite of Rebirth has her worried. They already reached the conclusion that the letter was a plant and whoever Lord Lonato was working with was not planning an attack on Lady Rhea but could not figure out what their true intentions were.

Professor Byleth had been running around like a madman, looking for clues under Seteth’s request, for any signs of where their enemies might strike next. To her surprise, which really should have been expected, there are several locations in the monastery that do have valuable things about them. 

There’s Professor Hanneman’s research supplies, the Holy Mausoleum, the Greenhouse, and the Treasure Vault to name a few. There are a few gag ones in there as well. She heard Caspar and Raphael debating the safety of the dining hall for one. The Goddess Tower would be an unlikely solution, seeing as how both Seteth and Lady Rhea would be there during the ceremony and they already surmised that Lady Rhea would not be the true target.

“Ah, Princess,” Claude’s voice greets her. “I was looking for you,” El stops writing, looking up from Dimitri’s lap. They’re leaned up against a tree as Dimitri rests his head on her shoulder. 

Her purple eyes flicker up to meet his green ones. She dips the quill into her ink and continues writing on her slate. “Claude,” she greets, still writing her latest thoughts.

“I was just wondering about your thoughts on this latest mission,” Claude smiles, smirking. He leans against the tree next to them. “There are a lot of rumors going around the monastery about what’s going on.”

“There are,” El confirms, she puts her quill down to listen, if only for a moment. She’s never paid attention to them, a majority of them about a masked figure kidnapping people in the night. Not that she doesn’t believe in them but they can be baseless at times.“Did you need something?” She asks pointedly. If Claude hangs around any longer, Dimitri will wake up and the ten minutes she spent trying to coax him to sleep will have gone to waste.

He hasn’t been sleeping well since Lord Lonato. She spent the first night after they got back in his room but she’s spent the rest of the nights in her own bed. She might have to change that given the bags under his eyes. 

“Just ah, there are a lot of paranoid people around here, aren’t there?” Claude japed, a thin smile on his lips. “Just heard some people accuse Cyril of being an Almyran spy.”

“Cyril,” El says skeptically, speaking of the young Almyran boy who had all but dedicated himself to Lady Rhea. “They think Cyril was a part of whatever Lord Lonato was planning,” she scoffed. “Well, whoever was talking doesn’t seem to have many wits, do they,” El states, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. In the few months they had been here, Cyril had distinguished himself by his hard work and dedication to Lady Rhea. He would be the last person to harm her except for Flayn, Seteth, and Catherine.

Claude grinned broadly, “That’s what I thought, the only way you’d get Cyril to plot against Lady Rhea if you told him it was for her own good and even then he’d probably go ask her how he could best help her.”

“And?” El dips her quill into the ink. She hasn’t spoken much to Cyril but the impression she gets from him is that he’s too busy to talk to people.

He scratched the back of his ear, “I told them as much and pretty much got an earful about how delicate politics in Fodlan were and how outsiders weren’t supposed to be trusted.” El raised a delicate eyebrow at that. 

“Charming,” El remarks, the relations between the countries in Fodlan and outside of Fodlan were fragile at the very least. She knew Almyra attacked the Leceister Alliance almost on a regular occasion. Dadga and Brigid had launched an invasion of the Empire more than six years ago. Sreng tried to retake back the territory that the Gautier lands had annexed before. 

“People do have a tendency to not trust outsiders. I think it took Dedue at least two years before he stopped getting strange looks in Fhirdiad.” It was until Dedue saved Dimitri from being poisoned when he stopped getting stares. It was honestly an issue within Fodlan. Fodlan could survive without trade but some of the rare goods came from outside of Fodlan. If Fodlan wanted those rare goods, they had to accept the people who created them.

“Dedue is from Duscur, is he not?” Claude inquires, sitting down alongside her. Dimitri has not stirred even with the prolonged conversation. He really must have not been sleeping well. She must look into herbs from the greenhouse for him later.

“He is,” she confirmed lightly. “He swore himself to Dimitri’s service almost four years ago.” When he had accompanied them from his village, El had always thought he would go back. For sure, he instructed nobles around Faerghus on how to grow fresh crops even in the winter that would not die on the coldest of nights, but there was always a thought that he would go back. But then he was attacked and Dimitri found justice for him all by himself; she was in Fraldarius territory by that time and could lend no aid or revenge. He was only fifteen at the time and not the full grown sized man he was today. 

“Does he ever want to go back?” Claude says, quietly. Today, she believes he has chores in the kitchen, cooking the meal with Mercedes by his side. Ashe has been relieved of his chores for two weeks as he recovers. There were no more words concerned about his loyalty. 

“You’ll have to ask him that yourself,” El responds. Ever since he left that day after the Tragedy of Duscur, he never went back, not even for a visit. His family visited him in Fhirdiad, bringing his belongings, but he never went back to that small village on the border of Duscur and Faerghus.

“Will he answer me?” Claude asks curiously, watching her. 

“He should,” Dimitri’s gravelly voice rose from his sleeping position on El’s shoulder. “I’ve asked him if he ever wants to go back but he never really answers me.” He gives El a slight smile, wrapping his arms around her body. He burrows his head into El’s shoulder, his bangs draping, almost touching her collarbone. 

“So what you’re saying is that he’ll talk to me but he won’t answer that particular question,” Claude surmises, deflating a little. If Dedue wouldn’t answer Dimitri honestly, there’s no way he’d answer Dedue.

“Pretty much,” Dimitri responds, lowering his head back down, nestling her shoulder. He tightens his hold around her stomach.

“Going back to sleep?” El murmurs, drawing her eyes away from Claude. Dimitri nods tiredly, nuzzling her neck. “What are your thoughts on the investigation?” She asks Claude. When Dimitri was told of the potential attack on Lady Rhea, so were Ferdinand and Claude, as they were tasked with telling their house their next mission. She had many thoughts on it, but no one wanted to debate with her.

“Other than it’s a red herring? They’ve got to be going for something that isn’t opened regularly. The monastery is open to pretty much everybody as far as I know,” Claude suggested. “So why does it have to be the Rite of Rebirth? Why did that letter suggest the Rite of Rebirth?”

“Something that isn’t open to the public regularly,” El muses. “There will be a lot of movement in and out of the monastery which will help whoever’s planning this cover their tracks. The Gatekeeper will have trouble keeping track of everyone who enters or leaves the monastery.” She wasn’t too involved in the investigation, Professor Byleth seemed to be the one holding most of the cards. She wracks her head for any location that would not be opened regularly to the people of the Monastery.

Claude snaps his fingers triumphantly, “The Holy Mausoleum.” They say in sync. El grins wildly. 

“It fits, the Holy Mausoleum is only opened during the Rite of Rebirth and with so many locations in the monastery that need protecting, they won’t be going there.” It makes sense, the Holy Mausoleum would not register very high on the list of things that needed protecting during the Rite of Rebirth. 

“And nothing’s really in the Holy Mausoleum, except the tomb of the divine Seiros.” Claude points out. “So it’s not an obvious target.”

“But what would be so important to need a diversion to break into the Holy Mausoleum?” El ponders out loud, her book utterly forgotten.

* * *

(13th Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1180)

After waking up a very reluctant Dimitri, they strike out to speak to Seteth and Professor Byleth as they were the ones to lead the investigation. Rather, El prodded Dimitri and Claude to go while she hung back. She hadn’t actually had time with Lady Rhea one on one but if someone was to be the one who discovered that she had a Crest of Seiros on her, it would probably be the archbishop.

She instead dips to the library, further extending her research. She returns the books that she had been reviewing before Claude had interrupted her. She’s been researching Crests.

Passed down the Hresvelg line is the truth of what actually occurred during the War of the Heroes and how the 10 Elites were actually on Nemesis’ side and the Heroes’ Relics were not given to the 10 Elites but made for them. But by whom?

El wants to know what they were made from. She had seen the Lance of Ruin and Areadbhar before and there was something odd about them. She watched Thunderbrand at work during the mission last month. They certainly looked like weapons that were made over a thousand years ago but they certainly didn’t seem like something a normal human being would be able to craft.

It could have been Seiros, El muses, but why would Seiros aid the allies of her enemy? So many questions, so few answers. 

“Oh hello El,” Tomas the librarian greets her warmly. “What are we looking at today?” She’s spent a lot of time in the library, more than she was honestly expecting, and she and Tomas have struck up a small friendship. 

“Anything on ancient blacksmith techniques would be greatly appreciated,” El smiles genuinely. “Preferably anything over a thousand years ago, also a book on the Heroes’ Relics would be nice.” She runs her fingers across the wooden table. There are a few people in the library, she spots Annette in the distance reading some books. She looks like she is deep into her studying so El won’t distract her from her reading.

“Looking at the Heroes’ Relics, are we?” Tomas laughs, “A popular topic.” He shuffles around, using his cane to move around the shelves. The old librarian knew it like the back of his hand, he had proven it several times when El was looking for some obscure topics.

“Well, I got a look at Catherine using the Thunderbrand and it was fascinating,” El lies. Honestly, it was a little terrifying. That much power being entrusted to a single person, Catherine cut down so many of Lord Lonato’s rebellion, she was a force into itself. It was a wonder that she wasn’t included in the main force of the Knights of Seiros that first clashed with Lord Lonato. If she had, perhaps they wouldn’t have made it so close to the monastery.

“Well I hope you don’t go try using it,” Tomas brings back three books. “It is only compatible with a user with the Crest of Charon, of course.” He stacks them on the table for her before leaving for the ledger.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” El responds, quickly, taking the books in hand. “When will these be due?” All of three of them are thick tomes and it will most likely take some time for her to read through all of them. Tomas has yet to suggest a book to her that isn’t educational.

“How does the beginning of the Horsebow Moon sound to you?” Tomas goes to the ledger that records all the books being borrowed. She only has one book out on loan right now so if she wants to, she could borrow another.

“Excellent.” El beams, placing the books underneath her elbow. “Thank you for your help, Tomas.” She leaves the library with a skip in her step. Sylvain can call her a nerd all he wants but nothing makes her happier than a good book. Other than sweets of course.

A month and a half will be more than enough time to cover all these books. The monastery doesn’t have much about the War of the Heroes as she was telling Claude but the Heroes’ Relics are a well-known part of Fodlan history, so there must be something in these books that can help her.

She spots Claude and Dimitri walking back from the Audience Chamber, “How did it go?” She asks, stepping in time with them back down the stairs.

“They believed us,” Claude informs quickly with a strange look on his face. He says little else. They keep walking down the stairs, heading for the dormitories.

“But they can’t put anyone openly in charge of protecting the Holy Mausoleum,” Dimitri finishes for the Golden Deer House leader. Dimitri takes the books from under her elbow without a word.

El stops and looks at them. “Why?” She tilts her head questioningly. Why would Lady Rhea insist on having no protection for the Holy Mausoleum? Did she not believe them? Their theory had very little support but so did any other theories floating around the monastery.

“Two parts,” Claude states, he raises a finger. “One, not enough bodies to go around the monastery as predicted and two, if this part of a bigger scheme, then we need to see who’s going to break in the mausoleum and not let them know we’re watching.” Claude chews on his thumb in thought. The more she learns about Claude the more she’s bewildered by him.

“So?” That can’t be all of it. Leaving the Holy Mausoleum unguarded would be a terrible idea. There are a thousand ways in and out of the monastery, if the people who are plotting this attack are able to escape undetected, who would know what they were after?

“The students of the Three Houses will watch the Holy Mausoleum. We will be led by Professor Byleth to survey the Holy Mausoleum.” Dimitri remarks coolly, he links his hand around El’s. “Because we don’t know how many people will be our enemy, they intend to use everyone.”

“Fair enough,” El states, frowning. “We have two weeks until the Rite of Rebirth, I suppose we should start getting ready.”

* * *

(20th Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1180)

Lysithea has been in overdrive ever since Lord Lonato’s failed rebellion. She’s picked up Luna as a Reason spell, and it makes her amongst the most powerful in the monastery. It negates any enemies’ magical resistance and it hits very hard. But it’s not enough. She doesn’t have time to waste on just learning Luna. She’s gone above what Professor Hanneman can teach as he only focuses on learning about Crests, which she abhors anyways. So she can’t go very much to him regardless. 

No one else in the monastery studies Dark Magic either except for Hubert and Hubert kind of scares her. Not that because he reminds her of a ghost character she read in a book once but he’s just really creepy and intimidating. Everyone avoids him.

She spots El toting a small axe and a book placed underneath her elbow. An odd combination for sure but in the rare conversations that they do have, El has demonstrated an interest in the magic she was learning. 

As El walks by, she notices Lysithea and brightens. “Lysithea,” she smiles, “Just the person I was looking for.”

“What can I help you with?” Lysithea asks briskly, she may like El but she doesn’t have time to waste. Each day counts for her.

“Just a question on a Bolganone spell, I know you favor Dark magic spells rather than Black magic but I was hoping for a little bit of insight on the particular runes for the Bolganone spell.” El replies, still smiling; she ignores Lysithea’s sharp tone of voice. 

“Bolganone,” Lysithea muses, chewing on her lip. While she does favor spells more like Miasma and Swarm, she has studied Black magic. It just didn’t come as easy for her like Dark magic did, which she had several theories behind but no time to explore. “I can help you with that. What’s with the axe?” She gestures towards the small axe under El’s elbow because if she was going to be studying magic, why was she lugging an axe around.

“Oh,” she looks down at the axe tucked underneath her elbow. “I have axe training with Professor Byleth in about an hour so I figured it’d be easier if I brought it with me while I was studying Reason magic. I can’t go back to my room because I have heavy armor training with Dedue right after that and then after that, I have authority and sword review with Dimitri. It’s just easier carrying this around,” she gestures with the axe.

Lysithea thought that she was busy. “That sounds like a lot,” she hedges, staring at her. How did El have so much energy for that? 

El shrugs, “I have choir practice with some of the girls- Hilda, Annette, Mercedes, Petra, and Dorothea twice a week so I have to cram things when I can.”

“Hilda?” Lysithea asks, confused. Hilda was one of the laziest people she had ever met in her admittedly short life. Hilda taking on an extracurricular activity was a shock to her. The others made some sense since they were working on Faith magic with Professor Manuela who was an expert at it.

“A favor for Professor Manuela,” El waves away. “I believe Dorothea convinced Petra and for Hilda, it was either Professor Manuela or working with Seteth.” That makes sense, Hilda had complained that Seteth was willing to call her out for her laziness. 

“Aren’t you still in the Fighter class?” Lysithea asks suspiciously. “You haven’t even passed into your intermediate class yet.” Most of the students had already achieved their Intermediate class, Lysithea went into the Mage class the earliest and it’s been a major help for her studies. 

Placing her hands behind her back, El balances on her heels. “Not yet,” she confesses. “Professor Byleth has recommended that I take the certification exam for either Brigand or Mage. Two very different classes,” she said with a laugh.

Lysithea eyes El strangely, the older girl clutching her axe to her, “so why haven’t you made a decision yet?” She asks curiously. She has always been so driven in her path because she’s had to be. 

“I have a path I want to go down,” El answers truthfully. “But I know that path wouldn’t be as advantageous to the others so I go down it.” She looks down at her boots, clicking the heel of them against the ground softly.

“Well,” Lysithea murmurs. “Why don’t you go down the path that you feel is right to you?” She replies quickly, “Rather than do what feels conflicting, go down the path that will help you the most.”

The next day, she hears that El has passed the certification for Mage with flying colors, she’s almost disappointed.

* * *

(20th Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1180)

So Hilda knows the reputation she gained around the monastery isn’t one that is necessarily in her favor. It’s not that she is lazy, it’s just that so many people are better at things that she’s assigned to do. But when she sees Caspar trying to doctor the bruise on his face, she stops and hears Caspar grumbling to himself about it.

“What happened?” She stops dead in her tracks, she’s pretty sure his nose is broken.

“Um. I- I may have gotten into a fight.” Caspar pinches his nose, his voice coming nasally through. “The guy didn’t have to punch me so hard though.”

“And why haven’t you gone to the infirmary and see Professor Manuela?” She asks, staring as blood begins to drip. She pulls out one of her many handkerchiefs that Holst has sent her. “Here, first let’s stop the bleeding.” She presses her light pink handkerchief to his hands. 

“Well, I got in trouble last week for fighting too much,” Caspar admits, covering his nose with her handkerchief. “I totally won this fight too.” She can see the blood staining her handkerchief, she’ll have to scrub it at that one to make sure it’s not permanent.

“You say that as if it’s an accomplishment,” Hilda retorts quickly. “You have to press harder, Caspar,” as blood continues to drip down his chin. She raises her hand to help him push against it.

Caspar winces as Hilda presses too hard. “Thanks,” he mumbles, pressing the handkerchief harder. Hilda removes her hands as Caspar holds the handkerchief tightly against his face.

“Why not go to Linhardt?” Hilda asks, knowing the two are best friends. Linhardt favors Faith magic and could heal his nose quickly. This would be such an easy fix.

“I didn’t want to bother him,” Caspar explains, flushing slightly pink. “Plus I’m working on this thing where I’m trying to defeat people who are bigger than me...it’s a work in progress.”

“Really?” Hilda asks curiously. Caspar is short, he’s only a little bit taller than her so to see him fighting people bigger than him...well it wouldn’t be very hard to find them.

“Yeah,” Caspar yells loudly, “Ow, ow,” Caspar winces. “You’re really good at this,” Caspar compliments, the upper corners of his mouth that Hilda can see turning up.

Yeah, well,” Hilda shrugs. “My brother Holst used to get into fights all the time when we were kids and I guess I got pretty good at this.” Holst used to be such a pipsqueak too, almost kind of reminded her of Caspar and he used to lose a lot. It came as a real shock when she realized that her brother was actually a respected general and popular in the Alliance.

“Holst Goneril?” Caspar asks quickly. “He’s a general in the Alliance, right?” Caspar almost tilts his head but Hilda forces it to stay upright.

“Yeah,” Hilda sighs. “He’s a total bigshot with them and it’s just kind of weird because he’s my brother. It’s a lot to live up to.” Holst is a pretty awesome brother, he just set the bar so dang high sometimes. She gets those looks from the professors and the other Knights of Seiros who remember her brother and then see her and are just disappointed. She misses those days.

Caspar nods, “I get that, kind of, I guess. My dad is a well-known general in the Empire and everyone sort of loves him because he’s a really good general. Then they see me and I’m kind of impulsive and I know I’m impulsive but sometimes I can’t help it!” He freezes, scrunching his face in pain. 

“Ow. But yeah, most people are not impressed when they see me. Thanks for your help the other day,” Caspar says, waving his free hand. “During the mission, you got me to pull back when I went out too far.”

Hilda blinks, trying to remember their latest mission. “Oh that, Caspar, you don’t need to worry about that,” she says, brushing it off. Caspar might have gone a bit too far into the fog and if he went any further, they wouldn’t have been able to see him any more. It was best for all of them that he stuck close by. 

Caspar shakes his head, keeping his hands pressed to his nose. “No, it’s like Professor Byleth says, we have to stick together and cover each other’s weaknesses. If I had gone out that far and someone got me, it’d make the group weaker and I’d be dead. You looked out for me and I appreciate it.”

Hilda fights down the flush almost coming over her. “Well, it was no issue at all. I’m just glad I could help.” She likes compliments but not compliments like these. She never knows what to say.

Caspar moves his hands away from his face. “I think it’s done bleeding, thanks Hilda. I’ll get this washed for you later.” He keeps the bloodied handkerchief with him, shoving it into his pocket.

“Well, just as long as you promise not to get into any more fights,” Hilda teases, feeling a little buoyant by Caspar’s compliments.

“Well, I couldn’t help but get into this one though,” Caspar argues back. “These guys were being real jerks and someone had to beat some sense into them.” Caspar’s nose looks way better than it did earlier so maybe it wasn’t broken, just bleeding. 

“Well, think of it like this,” Hilda points out. “You were doing a lot of good when we were fighting in Magdred Way, you even took out the guy who had the heavy fog up but it would have been way safer if you’d just restrained yourself. You can still do a lot of good while being in control.”

* * *

(20th Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1180)

Sylvain reads over the letter one more time from his father. This is the first time Miklan has surfaced after he was completely disinherited from their house and it’s not good news. His father doesn’t use the Lance of Ruin much anymore, not since the last Sreng invasion was beaten back. He usually keeps it locked up in his office but it seems that Miklan was able to sneak back into the castle and steal it, which isn’t good. For one, it’s a Hero’s Relic, which is already incredibly rare. It’s a point of pride for their family that they have one and that they use to defend Faerghus’s northern border.

Two, Miklan disappeared without a trace when he was first disinherited, it’s probably likely that he can disappear again. Although that may have more to do with the fact that his family didn’t give a shit about him when Miklan disappeared and didn’t put any resources into looking for him. Sylvain isn’t looking forward to hearing about the conversation that his father will have to have with King Lambert that’s for sure.

Three, it’s Miklan. He’s always been bad news ever since it was discovered that he had a Crest and Miklan didn’t.

“Sylvain?” Mercedes' voice drifts into his thoughts. “Are you ok?” She walks into his view, leaning over so he can see her. 

Sylvain shoves his father’s letter into his back pocket, plastering a smile on his face. “Mercedes,” he greets with false cheer. “I’m better now that I get to look at you,” he winks.

“I thought we weren’t going to flirt,” Mercedes responds, her light blue eyes meeting Sylvain’s red. 

“Right, we weren’t.” Sylvain confesses. “Just instinct at this point, sorry,” he jokes. He and Mercedes have talked about her past and it just makes Sylvain sick at this point, just thinking about how her and her mother were just used for their crests. It’s really awful just thinking about it. 

“It’s fine,” Mercedes reassures. “Now, are you doing ok?” She asks again, tilting her head in concern.

“Me, I’m fine,” Sylvain brushes off her concern. As Mercedes raises a light blonde eyebrow, Sylvain breaks his walls. “Just a letter from my father. Nothing important, just about family stuff. Crest stuff, actually.” Stuff he didn’t want to talk about, not with Mercedes, not with anyone.

“Well, do you want to talk about it right now?” She asks, clearly concerned.

Sylvain ponders the thought, she probably doesn’t know how the whole Gautier inheritance is so reliant on the Gautier Crest, if he tells her, she won’t spill the beans about the issue to anyone if he asks, and the whole she won’t get pulled into Blue Lions politics if he tells her either. “No… I’m good, but if you ever want to get tea, I’m more than happy to!”

He doesn’t want to talk about it now, he might say something he’ll regret.

* * *

(24th Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1180)

Claude enjoyed the mini birthday celebration thrown by his housemates, slightly bemused by their enthusiasm. At 18, he would be considered a man at his home. Raphael had tried to bake him a cake but burned it; he had later recruited the help of Bernadetta to cook Derdriu-Style Fried Pheasant for him. Lorenz had begrudgingly worked with Leonie to fashion a new bow for him while Ignatz and Hilda had organized everything. Lysithea made him a small cake later and even Marianne showed up, albeit with Hilda’s prodding. 

He did like the celebration but he didn’t dare tell them that he had a mini celebration for himself the night before, lighting a candle for himself in his own room. But he appreciated their efforts. 

* * *

(26th Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1180)

The cover story for the students in the Three Houses was that they were supposed to be participating in the ceremony of the Rite of Rebirth. It was, after all, one of the most important religious ceremonies in the Church of Seiros and for all of Fodlan. With the amount of nobles in their class, the appearance for involvement as a show was greater than past years.

As a result, it was Dedue, Dorothea, and Ashe as surveillance near the entrance of the Mausoleum as the Rite of Rebirth went on. Leonie, Ignatz, and Raphael are stationed in another location. 

If anyone was to approach the Mausoleum, they would go alert the others participating in the ceremony as they were in the outskirts of the crowd, ready to go when alerted. There was only one way into and out of the Mausoleum. If their enemies entered the Mausoleum, they would catch them. It’s at least thirty minutes into the ceremony when Ashe spots the hooded and masked figures sneaking into the Holy Mausoleum.

They send Dorothea to go get the others while they lie waiting. Several groups of masked individuals break into the Holy Mausoleum and once it seems like it stops, they enter.

The Holy Mausoleum is vast and dimly lit. However, at the end of the Mausoleum is an enormous tomb, most likely honoring Saint Seiros. Their entrance does not go unnoticed as Dedue and Raphael slam the doors behind them, trapping them in with the intruders. 

Professor Byleth takes point as they survey the terrain. There are a number of tombs in the Mausoleum. Because there are three sides, they break into their houses, with the Blue Lions house taking center while the Golden Deer flank the left and the Black Eagles house flank the right. 

“Those Central Church dastards have spotted us... Buy me some time while I open the seal on the casket!” The one who stands near Saint Seiros’s casket seems to be the leader as he wields magic with his left, turning his back on the students. He seems to have a great deal of trust in his subordinates to turn his back on them.

“Keep an eye on the floor,” Professor Byleth states, their voice low. “There appears to be contraptions on the floor, remember what you’ve been taught. Take into consideration the weapon types the enemies have and your positioning.” They command as the students take steps further. Their enemies are armed and ready. They were expecting them.

“Look at their uniform,” El hisses to Dimitri. “It’s the Western Church!” The Western Church was a branch of the Church of Seiros. Because the continent was so vast, the Church of Seiros broke itself into branches so it better governed Fodlan. Lady Rhea may have been the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros and wielded the most power, her influence still waned the further away she was from Garreg Mach Monastery. That’s where the other branches of the Church came into play. The Western Church’s headquarters were close to the border near the Empire and the Kingdom where House Gaspard, the Brionic Plateau, and House Arundel lay.

The Eastern Church did not have as much influence in the Alliance and the Empire territory as they vied for favor with the Alliance lords. The Southern Church was all but extinct with Count Varley, Bernadetta’s father, taking control of the church powers as Minister of Religion. 

Dimitri narrows his eyes. “What is going on?” This is much bigger than Lord Lonato’s rebellion if it involves the Western Church.

Far better trained than they were two months ago, the students begin their approach towards Seiros’s tomb. Their teamwork with each other covers for their weaknesses and enhances their strength as they are more in tune with each other’s fighting styles and strategies. The Golden Deer and Black Eagles houses make their way quickly up the sides of the tombs while the Blue Lions house chip their way towards the tomb as most of the enemy forces lie in the middle. Ashe and Annette come in handy, distracting their enemies from a distance so Ingrid and Felix can step in. Dedue covers the back just in case they’re ambushed.

It goes smoother than expected. This time they know what to expect and the ease in which the violences comes to them is unexpected. Their muscles have gotten used to the motion of the killing blow. 

The tide turns in favor of the students until the appearance of _him._ A man with a skull helmet dressed in black on a horse appears and he radiates power. He appears on the side of the Black Eagles and when Caspar first spots him, he charges, rather foolishly.

The knight doesn’t even look at him when he slices his lance through him. 

“Caspar!” Linhardt yells as the young man falls. Petra darts forward, her sword raised, slashing away at the knight; she falls as well to Dorothea’s shriek. 

At that point, the Death Knight makes his way towards the center as Hubert holds the rest of the Black Eagles back, eyeing the figure warily. Caspar and Petra were two of the more physical members of the Black Eagles and the rest were either magic users or Bernadetta. Ferdinand was not going to be fighting against that man.

El turns her head away as she fells another enemy using her axe to the screams to the right. She knows this feeling; Death is in the air. Someone approaches, the clicking noise of a horse as they clack against the tile floor of the mausoleum. Professor Byleth is near the back of the group, taking care of some last minute reinforcements for their enemies. 

Sylvain and Dedue don’t charge in like Petra and Caspar do, for them, it is simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Dedue goes down first, even his defense is not enough as the Death Knight bodies two hits to bring Dedue down in two strokes. Sylvain was not paying attention, his mind taken away by the fact that his brother is roaming around Northern Faerghus, most likely in the Conand Tower. At least, that is what Seteth told him. 

El sees them both fall and calls up a Bolganone spell, the biggest fire spell she can muster to at least slow him down. He won’t get to Dimitri, not if she can help it. It doesn’t even scratch him. His horse tamps down the flames and he makes direct eye contact with her. Seemingly, his eyes glint in the dark and he approaches. 

“You.” His voice, deep and rough, says. El uses her axe to block the first blow, ducking underneath his horse and swinging towards the Death Knight. He swings his lance, a scythe, to knock her out with the handle slamming her against a pillar, unconscious. 

She crumples and the Death Knight goes to pick her up before Lorenz and Leonie try to tag team him. He dodges easily, slicing through them with his lance as he reaches for El.

“Dark Spikes!” Lysithea calls as purple and black lightning crackles through the Death Knight, knocking his horse out. Dimitri slides in, picking up El’s unconscious body and runs with her towards Claude.

“Thoron!” Dorothea calls out, following Lysithea with a lightning strike hitting the Death Knight as well. Claude throws in an arrow strike that hits the Death Knight in the shoulder. For good measure, Annette hits him with a Cutting Gale that knocks him away. 

Professor Byleth has returned to the main area, their steel sword at the ready. They narrow their eyes at the Death Knight, shifting into a fighting stance, staring him down. The Death Knight charges at them and Byleth dives, dodging the blow and slicing the Death Knight’s lance arm. Byleth turns and faces the Death Knight, their back to the Black Eagles students. 

Clutching his arm, bleeding, the Death Knight scans the scene, recognizing he is outmatched at this point and retreats, warping away. 

Mercedes and Linhardt rush towards the bodies of Dedue and Sylvain as they have already tended to Petra and Caspar on their side. Marianne focuses on Leonie and Lorenz with Annette coming to their aide as well. Hubert approaches Dimitri, cradling El’s unconscious body in his arms. “Is she?”

Dimitri shakes his head quickly, looking down at El’s face. She’s not hurt, just knocked out. “She is fine,” he looks to the center where Seiros’s tomb lies. “We should finish this.”

“Gladly,” Hubert says darkly, calling a Banshee spell to his side. They will pay.

With the distraction of the Death Knight and the falling of so many of their friends, the masked figures have almost broken into Seiros’s tomb by the time they approach. Even with their enemies’ attempts to stop them, there is no mercy for them. They mercilessly take down their opponents with Professor Byleth leading the charge. There will be no compassion tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short explanation as to why Rhea doesn't oust El as Edelgard, the lone survivor of Ionius' children. It's been established that crest sharers can recognize each other, at the very least in Catherine and Lysithea's supports. How Rhea doesn't recognize El as a Hresvelg was hard to explain. My view of it is that El avoids her and honestly, Rhea doesn't really care, just so long it doesn't affect the Church or her resurrection efforts. Which you know, how you feel about it will probably differ (I'm not a fan).


	11. Part II Chapter VI

* * *

(26th Day of the Blue Sea Moon, 1180)

With a third of the students inside Professor Manuela’s hospital wing, the three house leaders are called to Lady Rhea’s audience chamber. Those heavily injured in the fight are receiving medical treatment with any student who knows healing magic under Professor Manuela’s guidance, even Hubert. Their lives are not critical as the prompt treatment they received in the Mausoleum most likely saved their lives. But Professor Manuela has watched students die before and she won’t let it happen to any of them.

Professor Byleth wields the Sword of the Creator awkwardly by their side as if they aren’t sure what to do with. It was quite impressive watching the professor use the sword of legend. The sword that could slice through mountains in the right hands.

“Excellent work,” Lady Rhea remarks after she’s sentenced the Western Church to their punishment. They will be executed for acting against the Central Church without a trial. Anyone found guilty of conspiring with them will most likely face the same fate. She levels a smile at Professor Byleth. “You in particular, Professor, have shone as a light through the darkness. The Sword of the Creator has chosen wisely.” She tilts her head. “It is clear that this is a sign for things to come. I entrust the sword to you, Professor. Please, use it wisely.”

Seteth openly stares at Lady Rhea in silence, confusion written on his face. He sneaks a glance at the three house leaders, making a decision to discuss hers at a later time.

Lady Rhea continues, blissfully unaware of Seteth’s concerns,“I am sure the other students will recover soon but I must say that I am impressed with the way the students handled themselves tonight.”

Dimitri bites his tongue from replying while Claude stares, surprised. Those aren’t the words anyone would have chosen.

“I’m sorry?” Ferdinand questions, his hair slightly tinged with blood. Hubert kept him close after the others fell but blood still sullied the Black Eagles House leader.

Lady Rhea turns her gaze on Professor Byleth. “You’ve protected the Holy Mausoleum and the Sword of the Creator,” she says coolly. “The leadership you have demonstrated for the students have proved for the better,” she smiles. “I will visit the students in the hospital wing later,” she states, “I pray that the goddess watches over them,” she puts her hands together and bows. 

“You are dismissed,” Seteth says gruffly as the three house leaders look to each other and leave. Professor Byleth stays behind as Lady Rhea wishes to speak to them further.

Ferdinand ruffles his hair, tired. “That was not what I was expecting,” he remarks, exhausted after the doors to the audience chamber close behind them. Petra and Caspar are still resting with the others. Extra beds had to be brought into Professor Manuela’s hospital wing with so many wounded that night.

“What? Between the Sword of the Creator being lost supposedly for centuries and found in the Holy Mausoleum? Or the fact that the Western Church tried to launch a coup in the Central Church’s basement? Or the fact that we almost lost some lives today?” Claude asks, agitated. He resists the urge to pace with so many questions on his mind. Leonie and Lorenz are recovering just fine in the hospital wing but he still worries about them.

“Probably everything,” Dimitri responds before Ferdinand could reply. He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to quell the headache beginning to develop. “This raises more questions than answers.” The ferocity in which Dimitri destroyed the Western Church members was one that would not be forgotten. El was still unconscious after hitting one of the pillars and there would be blood to pay if she and the others did not wake up.

“A lot of questions,” Claude agrees. “Like who was that guy? If he was strong enough to take out seven of us and only went down after Lysithea, Dorothea, Annette, and I hit him in a row? I do not want to face him in a dark alley.” They were calling him the Death Knight for it seemed death followed after him. The fact that only Professor Byleth was able to land a serious blow against him was unnerving.

“What will happen to the Sword of the Creator?” Ferdinand asks. He removes his white gloves, dyed red with his enemies’ blood. “Professor Byleth could wield it.” That means there’s more than meets the eye regarding the talented ex-mercenary.

“Also another good question,” Claude points out. He shakes his head, “I need to go check on the rest of my house,” Claude states. “At least what’s left of them, you guys should go check on yours too.” They walk back down the stairs to the dining hall where everyone is gathered, waiting for news.

* * *

(27th Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1180)

El wakes up in the hospital wing with the others unconscious in the beds around her. The beds are crammed much closer than usual with so many injured. El rubs her forehead slowly, trying to will the headache away that settled in her brain. It’s still dark out and El doesn’t know how much time has passed. 

She remembers there was a knight who attacked Dedue and Sylvain and so many others. She whips her head around looking for the bright red hair and white hair of Sylvain and Dedue respectively. They must be in the room with them and if they aren’t, then she will go looking for them.

She relaxes as she sees Sylvain’s bright red hair poking over the blankets and Dedue’s legs dangling off the bed. She sees Petra, Caspar, Lorenz, and Leonie in the room with her as well, matching their brightly colored hair to their beds.

She slips her legs out of bed, noticing her boots missing. She looks around the bed, not seeing them. Before she goes, she checks on each of the other wounded, making sure that none of them need healing. It seems that all of them have been healed by Professor Manuela and the others but before El can sneak out the door, Dimitri enters carrying a steaming cup of tea.

His blue eyes meet hers as she stands, stubbornly. “You should be resting,” Dimitri scolds, putting the cup of tea on the bedside drawer. 

El scowls, retorting, “I just got hit in the head. Not actually hurt, I’m fine now Dimitri.” Truly, the Death Knight did not hurt her, just knocked her out. Compared to the others, she was perfectly healthy. Dimitri was acting like she suffered some grievous injury. Perhaps she suffered one to her pride but physically speaking, she was fine.

Sylvain mumbles in his sleep, turning over in bed. They look at each other, silently agreeing to take the conversation outside. Dimitri takes the cup of tea with him.

“You should be in bed,” Dimitri states sternly. “It’s only been a day since everything happened, everyone else is sleeping.” He offers his arm to her only for her to ignore it. She’s perfectly healthy and does not need help going down the stairs.

“Not you,” El points out. It was late, judging by how dark it was. The fact that Dimitri was trying to lecture her about resting while he was awake was rich. He was already having trouble sleeping, staying up late just to get tea for her would not help him.

“Fine,” El says stubbornly, raising her chin. “Take me to my room then.” If he wants her in a bed, then it can be her bed. 

“I was meaning-,” Dimitri sighs. Dimitri’s never been able to stand up to her in a fight and that’s not going to change anytime soon. “This is for you,” he relents, offering her the cup of steaming tea. They start walking towards the dormitories.

When she takes the tea cup, El can smell the bergamot tea, softening a little bit. Dimitri has only even wanted to help her. “Thank you,” she says gratefully, sniffing the tea. She takes a sip, enjoying the tart flavor. “Have you seen my boots?” The tights she’s wearing offer her some protection from the cold as fall settles in Garreg Mach Monastery. Even all her time in Faerghus, she’s never gotten used to the cold.

Dimitri shakes his head as they walk down the steps. “How are you feeling?” He asks gently, supporting her back as they continue down.

El tosses her hair, “I’m fine, honestly Dimitri. I just have a little bit of a headache but I didn’t want to be there anymore. It reminds me that day…” she confesses quietly, “Being a healthy person in a hospital wing just doesn’t sit well with me.” She blinks away the feelings. If she starts crying, Dimitri is going to insist that she returns back to the hospital wing.

“I see,” Dimitri concurs quietly. They start their way past the dormitories, making their way to El’s room near the greenhouse. “I’m glad to hear that. I was worried- for a bit. Everyone was.”

“So what happened?” El asks curiously as they pass Dedue’s room. The strength of the Death Knight seemed so vast in comparison to them, even Professor Byleth.

“Leonie and Lorenz got hurt, then Lysithea hit him with one of her spells- that was able to knock him off his horse. Dorothea used a Thoron spell too, and Annette was able to use a Cutting Gale. Claude pierced his armor with an arrow and then Professor Byleth was able to wound his lance arm…” Dimitri describes as they continue to El’s room.

“But?” El asks quietly.

“He got away,” Dimitri admits. “No trace of him anywhere and it turns out the Western Church was involved in Lord Lonato’s rebellion and inciting him to rebel against Lady Rhea, using his hatred for them for Christophe’s execution,” his face twists as he states bitterly. “They used him; they used a good man.” He clenches his teeth and closes his eyes, his hands balling into fists.

It became clear that Lord Lonato was manipulated by the Western Church as a distraction for them. This was a crime that Faerghus would not forget.

“I see,” they’ve reached her room and El turns to him. “Dimitri...I don’t think it was just the Western Church,” she says quietly, getting close. “Those men in those masks….they remind me of the people in the massacre,” she meets his eyes, looking up. They wore dark cloaks and masks to keep their identity hidden but the very air around them felt darkly familiar. There was more to this than met the eye.

A sharp intake of breath and Dimitri stares. “Those masks are similar but I-we don’t have any proof.” They haven’t really told anyone what they saw that day of the massacre. They didn’t see Ducsur men but the men they did face, they were heavily cloaked and masked. Unrecognizable to their eye. Glenn may have been conscious for most of it but he didn’t remember much of that day, due to the shock and trauma he endured.

“I know,” El nodded, “I just wanted to tell you.” She looks in her room, noticing the lonely bed. “Do you- will you stay with me tonight?” She looks to him, his body being backlit by the moon. He’s so very tall and she would like some company tonight. She links her hand not carrying the tea between him. 

Dimitri takes a step forward, butting his forehead with hers. “Okay,” he says with a smile. They head into her room for a long restless night.

* * *

(28th Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1180)

The monastery is in a tizzy two days after the attack. Dimitri is not in his room and El is no longer in the hospital wing. Nerves are frayed after the attack of the Rite of Rebirth, having so many enemies infiltrate the monastery. Even though the attack happened during the Rite of Rebirth, where guards were down and their enemies were the Western Church, who were expected to be there. But no matter, the missing heir to the Kingdom raises alarm bells and the others scour the monastery in search of them.

No sign of them. Ingrid raises her head after checking the greenhouse for the nth time. “Has anyone checked El’s room?” Felix stares at her, irritated by the fact that he’s lost half a day of training to look for the Boar Prince. They march over to El’s room, hidden by stairs. Felix slams the door open, revealing El and Dimitri in bed.

They’re curled into each other softly, their feet tangled together. El has her head tucked into Dimitri’s chest and before Felix can say anything, Ingrid drags him out the room. It’s been a stressful week, everyone should be resting. 

Felix hisses, “While the Boar Prince is sleeping, I could have been training!” Felix spent six hours on the training floor yesterday, even though most everyone was recovering. Ingrid pushed back her bangs, loose from her braid. While it’s a little aggravating that they spent half a day looking for Dimitri, she can’t be mad at them. They’ve been given a week off to recover and Felix needs to take it easy sometimes too. 

“It’s been a rough time for everyone,” Ingrid sighs. “I’ll let the others know that we found them and you can go back to the training field.” It’s a relief that they were able to find them. With Dedue, El, and Sylvain hurt, it was almost half of the Blue Lions House gone. Dimitri was naturally concerned for his friends and Ashe was still withdrawn with the knowledge that he killed Lord Lonato, who was being used by the Western Church to further their cause. 

The Blue Lions house is hurting right now and this next month is going to make it worse.

* * *

(30th Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1180)

El scans over the letter in disbelief. “Miklan?” Sylvain’s explained the contents of his father’s letter to everyone as they meet in his room as he and Dedue recover from their wounds. 

“Miklan,” Sylvain confirms from his bed as the Blue Lions meet in his room. He’s still technically recovering from the Death Knight but this news is about to break to everyone else in the monastery and he should probably share it with his house first. Or he might be in pain.

Ashe glances over at Annette, slightly lost, she shrugs. Her uncle has taught her the noble houses of Fodlan but not the politics that involve them.

“Miklan is Sylvain’s older brother,” Ingrid explains slowly to Ashe and Annette. They’re unfamiliar with the Gautier family but all the families in Eastern Faerghus knows Miklan’s story. It’s a story about the dangers of having an oldest born without a crest.

There’s a lot of history in the Gautier House and it isn’t really her place to explain it for Sylvain, especially if he doesn’t want to.

“He’s stolen the Lance of Ruin,” Dimitri frowns, plucking the letter from El’s hands, who offered it to him. “Has my father been informed, Sylvain?” The Lance of Ruin is one of the Heroes’ Relics, one of the legendary weapons that originated during the War of the Heroes. 

Sylvain nods, “They’ve been looking for him in Northern Faerghus but there aren't enough people looking for him,” he pauses looking around. “My father wants to make sure that word doesn’t make it to Sreng or we’ll really be in trouble.”

“Why tell us now?” Felix asks quietly, looking at Sylvain. Sylvain squirms under the stares, this is going to ugly and fast.

“He’s going to write to Lady Rhea asking for us to find him. Probably get the Blue Lions House involved seeing as who we are and going to be,” Sylvain explains. “This isn’t good.” His shoulders drop as he keeps his eyes on his desk.

El scoffs lightly, “No, it isn’t.” She’s had her suspicions about Miklan but she’s never actually raised them, just like Sylvain’s never raised any questions about who she really is. “So what’s the game plan?”

“Father will tell Lady Rhea, we will get sent out on a mission to recover the Lance of Ruin.” Sylvain answers, fisting his hands into his blankets by his side. “Once we find him that is. We bring back the Lance.” There is no mention of what will happen to Miklan, there doesn’t need to be. Lord Lonato was a much better man than Miklan and look where he ended. In a grave. 

“Apparently there have been a string of bandit attacks near Conand Tower,” Dimitri informs, staring at him quietly. “I believe Seteth has sent the Knights of Seiros to investigate. Perhaps it is Miklan there.” When Sylvain goes quiet, it’s never a good sign for Sylvain or his friends. Miklan’s reappearance is bothering him more than he is letting on.

“That is why you were distracted during the Rite of Rebirth,” Dedue remarks softly, analyzing Sylvain. “You did not realize the Death Knight had approached us. Your mind was elsewhere.” Sylvain was struck down by the Death Knight before Dedue and when he saw Sylvain fall, he saw the surprise in his eyes and then the pain.

Felix and Ingrid whirl on Sylvain in disbelief. Sylvain stares at Dedue who is sitting down, meeting his green eyes and swallows.

El shakes her head and herds Annette and Ashe out of the room as Ingrid’s voice rises alongside Felix’s. This goes beyond the mission, this involves Sylvain and his tendency to hyperfocus on his own internal issues. They don’t need to be there as Felix and Ingrid will lecture Sylvain on his...decisions. 

“The Lance of Ruin is important to House Gautier,” she explains in an undertone as they leave the second level of dormitories. “On many levels.” Her own family did not have a Heroes’ Relic but she could imagine how it could have torn her family apart if they did. It was already tense enough with so few Crest of Seiros appearing amongst her siblings. But that was amongst the noble families, never between her sisters and brothers.

Annette nods, “House Dominic has a Heroes’ Relic as well, but neither my uncle nor father have the Crest of Dominic so I’ve never seen it used,” she chews on her lip. “What was Miklan like?” If their house will be the ones to hunt him down, she does not want it to be another situation like Lord Lonato. She doesn’t want to hurt innocent people, not again.

“Cruel,” El states in one word. Miklan never said a word to her but she saw the looks and the resentment towards Sylvain, who lived with it like it was air. “The House Gautier….” She looks back to Sylvain’s room. 

“It is complicated, the relationship that Sylvain has with his brother, it has been colored by the existence of Crests.” She says with a sad smile. “It is not my place to say but my memories of Miklan are not very favorable at all.” She was one of the few siblings who had the Crest of Seiros but she was never treated the way Miklan treated Sylvain, with silent anger and resentment.

* * *

(31st Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1180)

El murmurs lightly, summoning a string of Bolganones to light a series of dummies on fire, her fingers splayed out. She would be lying if she said that it didn’t bother her to see the Death Knight shrug her attack off so easily.

“Careful that you don’t burn the monastery down,” Hubert’s voice slides in. El whirls around, the flames in her hand around blinking out. Hubert nods, “More force is needed if you want to make it hurt.” El stares, silent.

She has not spoken to Hubert since their confrontation many months ago. She had assumed him hurt and offended by her refusal to admit her identity. They met when they were young but she did not know how Hubert had changed in the years they were apart.

“I’ve used Dark Magic for years,” Hubert informs her coldly. “Reason magic needs more power, less control especially for fire based users.” She had been nine when she left him, he had barely begun his magic studies based by her side. Hubert had wanted to become a pegasus knight when he was young, she recalled. However, he feared heights. He stuck to magic for a reason

El stares mutely, summoning the runes and pulling another Bolganone into her control. She keeps it in her hands, letting the flames grow more in size.

“You first trained in Faith magic, it shows in your usage. Always careful with how you direct and your control,” Hubert remarks, walking around her, examining her stance. “I will admit Dark magic does take a bit of control as well but with the amount of power it wields, sacrificing power for control makes sense.” He delicately corrects the angle of her elbow, straightening it.

He’s gotten taller, she barely reaches his shoulder. He’s still skinny as ever, his face is gaunt and pale. It’s a family trait at this point, she remembers Marquis Vestra being the same. But he’s still the same Hubert who was constantly by her side in Enbarr. The only way she was taken out of the palace without him was because Marquis Vestra didn’t want his only son and heir in the palace when it was being attacked by his men.

El releases the Bolganone, admiring how the dummy turns to ash. For a moment there, she almost lost control and her clothes smelled like smoke. “When it comes to Reason magic, do not be afraid to let go.” Hubert states, looking down at El. “There will come a time where you must take your opponent out in one blow. Reason magic is good when you don’t have time for mercy.” His light green eyes dance in the flames around them.

* * *

(2nd Day of Verdant Rain Moon, 1180)

“You wanted to see me Dimitri?” Sylvain says with an easy grin. Almost a whole week after the Rite of Rebirth, he’s fully recovered from the Death Knight attack under the careful care of Professor Manuela and Mercedes, not that he certainly doesn’t mind it. Having two gorgeous women take care of him for a couple of days was nice. 

Their quick house meeting having taken place in his room a couple of days ago notwithstanding, Sylvain has a feeling what topic awaits him.

“Yes,” Dimitri answers brightly. They’re in the courtyard and Dimitri has tea set up for the two of them, which surprises Sylvain. Dimitri’s never been one for tea for as long as he can remember. El is a sucker for tea but Dimitri would let him know if he was going to be interrogated by both of them at the same time.

Sylvain smells the tea before he sits down, “Bergamot?” He asks curiously. Dimitri’s never shown much of a preference for tea but Bergamot is one of his favorites. 

Dimitri nods, “El had some extra that she wanted to share,” as he sits down. “I wanted to see how you were doing.” Dimitri’s bright blue eyes meet Sylvain’s red ones as he interlocks his fingers. “It’s been quite a week for you.”

“For everyone you mean,” Sylvain takes a sip of tea, still warm, savoring its tart flavor. “I wasn’t the only one hurt during the Rite of Rebirth,” he points out. He knows that Caspar, Petra, and Leonie have thrown themselves back into training. Lorenz is being a little more reticent and quiet since leaving the hospital wing. Dedue’s retreated into himself, spending more time caring for the plants in the greenhouse.

“That is true,” Dimitri agrees. “I was referring more to Miklan and what’s happened,” he says bluntly. Seems like Dimitri’s taking a leaf from El, this candor normally comes from El. She’s probably waiting in the background somewhere, tracking his reactions. 

“What’s to say?” Sylvain reclines into his chair, looking away. “My brother stole the Lance of Ruin and is running around the countryside with it,” he says bitterly. He and Miklan have never been close, and if they were, it ended after his crest was discovered.

“And how do you feel about it? It’s been almost two years since you last saw Miklan.” Dimitri asks curiously, not touching his cup. He keeps his eyes on Sylvain. He’s not liking this new Dimitri, the one that is trying to guide answers out of him. This is El’s influence, he knows it.

“I’m not going to cry any tears over him,” Sylvain retorts angrily. He doesn’t consider himself to be quick to anger kind of person but he doesn’t like to talk about Miklan. Miklan had left the lands of House Gautier under a cloud, his father and mother considered him to be dead to them and honestly, so did Sylvain. Miklan was just another thief who happened to steal his family’s relic. 

Dimitri nods, “Fair enough. I’ve always thought about the way crests interact with the natural system in the world, particularly Faerghus. After all, my father was chosen to inherit the throne after he had the Crest of Blaiddyd and not my uncle Rufus, despite my uncle being older,” he admits dryly. Rufus was the Grand Duke of Itha and a lout as his father described him. Sylvain was warned not to become like the King’s older brother. But this was commonplace in Fodlan, especially Faerghus. Crests ruled supreme.

“I have benefitted from the Crest system but my time with Ashe, Dedue, and El have shown things for me. I would have told you that crests were an important factor in choosing leaders.” He stares Sylvain in the eyes, unflinchingly. “I would have not chosen Miklan, though.”

They were going there apparently. “Oh, and why is that?” Sylvain says with a laugh. He knows that his flirting has not gone over well with any members of his house, particularly with Dimitri, Ingrid, and Felix. But he cannot imagine anyone choosing him to be the heir or his friends if crests were no longer important.

“.... You don’t need to admit anything but I remember how often injured you were when we were younger. But you weren’t clumsy or reckless. You’d tried to keep us out of trouble actually,” Dimitri remarks thoughtfully. “Those constant injuries you had...I wondered why didn’t Margrave Gautier ever do anything about them.”

* * *

(7th Day of Verdant Rain Moon, 1180)

When Mercedes wakes up, there is a bouquet of lavender flowers alongside an armored stuff bear with a note attached.

_Hi Mercedes,_

_I wanted to thank you for healing me at the Holy Mausoleum and in the hospital wing afterwards. I would have really been in trouble if you didn’t. Sorry I keep causing you so much trouble. Anyways, this is thanks for everything you’ve done and I’m glad I got to meet you._

_Thanks_

_Caspar._

Mercedes had to smile at that. Caspar was a bright spot in the monastery, reminding her a bit of Annette to be honest. He approached her as readily as Annette did at the Royal School for Sorcery without judgement or nerves. 

His need for justice, willingness to speak up, and friendly demeanor reminded her of Annette while they were at the Royal School for Sorcery in Fhirdiad. Her adopted father had pushed her into attending so she built up connections in Fhirdiad and she was so nervous about going there, being much older than the majority of the students there. She was nervous about the Officer’s Academy as well but the fact that Annie was attending gave her courage.

For the majority of her life, a lot of emphasis was placed on the crest of Lamine that she bore. Her stepfather married her mother so she could give birth to a child of his that also had the crest. She was adopted and cared for after being thrown out of the house with her mother because of her crest. 

Her adoptive father adopted her because of the crest she bore after her mother passed. With a large sum of money, he purchased her birth father’s title for her own use. If Mercedes was to marry well like he wished, he would secure a grand life for him and any future offspring if he chose to have any. 

Being at the Officer’s Academy was a breath of fresh air. Only a few of the students cared that they had crests but a lot of the students here also didn’t. She had pleaded with her adopted father to let her attend the Officer’s Academy, in the hopes of making ‘better’ connections but here, she truly felt at peace.

Caspar didn’t care that he didn’t have a crest. He just kept going everyday, trying his hardest. She picked up the vase of flowers and the stuffed teddy bear and put it on her desk, admiring it. She pinned the note to her desk to help her remember that there were many good days amongst the bad and people cared about her for her abilities, and not for who she stood for.

Although it wasn’t really her who healed Caspar in the Holy Mausoleum, she remembered with a shiver. It was Linhardt whose panicked expression was the most emotion she had ever seen from the sleepy teen. It was Linhardt who labored over Caspar’s unconscious body in the hospital wing, healing every single small cut or wound he had sustained while in the Holy Mausoleum. She would have to remind Caspar that she had helped Dorothea heal Petra down there and was just doing administrative duties in the hospital wing for the poor overwhelmed Professor Manuela.

The Death Knight, she never admitted to anyone not even Annie, had a familiar feel to him, one that she could not place. Or should place really, with the damage that he caused to the rest of her classmates. Some would very well want revenge for that day.

* * *

(10th Day of Verdant Rain Moon, 1180)

Dorothea tends to Petra’s wounds that she sustained during training. She asked Petra to help teach her in sword training; the Rite of Rebirth was a real eye-opener for her, so many of her classmates were injured and Hubert was right to keep them back after Caspar and Petra fell. Ferdinand yelled at him for a bit but then they took it private. Some conversations were best to have in the shadows.

She was horrified by the violence of that night but it showed her that she needed to better protect herself. No one would do it for her.

Professor Manuela’s been tutoring her in basic swordplay since the school year started but Petra’s proven herself to be a real master, even challenging Felix during the interclass tournament last month in swords. She lost but barely much to her frustration. But Felix was a real master at the swords, his dedication almost terrifying especially in the wake of the attack on the Holy Mausoleum.

“You will have to watch your balance,” Petra mutters, lightly touching Dorothea’s hips to center her. She slightly bends Dorothea’s sword fighting arm, having her raise her training sword up. Petra’s been teaching her how to fight with only one hand, just in case she wants to summon any emergency magic but Dorothea might pick up two handed sword fighting as well. She has better control over the blade that away.

“I have been in thought-thinking,” Petra corrects herself. “About what you said about scars,” after they take a quick break from sparring. Dorothea actually got some pretty good blows in that she’s proud of. Obviously, Petra was going easy on her just to make sure that she didn’t lose any confidence. “I understand why you do not like them,” she states, pointing out. “In your situation, you must rely on your looks to succeed.

“Way to go for the heart,” Dorothea smiles tensely. She’s not wrong but hearing Petra voice those thoughts certainly isn’t a nice one.

“The heart? Oh yes, metaphorically speaking, your emotions,” Petra concludes. “That is to say, I mean that you must take care of your appearance for your future, is that not correct?”

Dorothea tosses her hair. “You’re not wrong, it’s just an uncomfortable truth that I have to face,” looking away. She didn’t think that her comments on Petra’s many scars would come to haunt her so late. 

A frown comes upon Petra’s face. “I did not mean to upset you. I was hoping to understand why our opinions were so different.” A furrow appears on her brow as Petra contemplates.

Dorothea shrugs, wistfully. “Scars are permanent,” she answers tiredly. “You are right, I need to think about my future and I have so many things against me already.” She will return to Mittlefrank Opera company once her time at the Officer’s Academy is finished, ideally with connections. But she knows that she is not talented enough to last forever. The only way she can secure her future is through a good marriage and she would prefer to be married to someone she liked. 

Petra nods eagerly. “For Brigid, scars are a way to show what our past was like and where we have come from. They are a sign of strength as they represent what we have endured and our resilience. They show us that we have steel in our hearts.”

* * *

(10th Day of Verdant Rain Moon, 1180)

Leonie’s just returned from her scavenging in the forest when a crowd outside of the training room attracts her attention. It’s a large crowd, clamoring at the gates to lead to the training room floor. 

“What’s going on?” She asks quickly, tapping Raphael on the shoulder. He stands tall, able to see what’s going on in that room.

Raphael glances at her and then back into the room. “It’s Professor Byleth,” he explains quickly. “They’re training with the Sword of the Creator.” It certainly explained a lot. The professor had risen in popularity after it was discovered they could wield the Sword of the Creator. In combination with their talent and their position as Jeralt’s child, they were clearly something unique. 

Frowning, “why is everyone outside of the training room floor?” There weren’t that many people in the monastery to crowd the training room but this many people there meant something was up.

He shakes his head. “No one’s allowed in the actual room,” Raphael replies quickly. “Professor Byleth wants everyone to be careful and stay outside of the room until they’re sure they can control it. They don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

He nods towards the entrance. “Captain Jeralt’s in there too, helping them practice with it.” He watches entranced as the crowd oohs and the noise of a sword slicing through a wooden dummy sounds through the air.

Leonie stares at the training room. It’s tempting to push her way towards the front. To watch Captain Jeralt in action was something that shouldn’t be missed but...she has a schedule to keep. Plus, she’d rather have Captain Jeralt’s attention on her than to watch from the sidelines.

Byleth is talented so that means Leonie will have to work that much harder to keep up. They may be the professor but she’s willing to work hard and besides, they can’t be perfect forever.

* * *

(10th Day of Verdant Rain Moon, 1180)

“Take it from the top,” Dorothea commands, rather bossily. Hilda isn’t sure how she ended up here, practicing her singing with a bunch of girls she doesn’t really know. Professor Manuel wanted to throw a performance for the ball that’s being thrown at the end of the year, as was the custom. But it was either this or helping Seteth and she’d rather not do that. She starts singing, not because she’s the lead as they are an ensemble of six girls and her part is the first song after the first group song.

They’re singing some musical from the Mittlefrank Opera Company, and the musical is a little interesting, some king married six women and they’re portraying the women brought back to life. They’re in a group where they’re trying to compete to be the lead. Hilda thought they, as the women in the musical, would be fighting to be the one that the king loved the most but instead, they’re competing on the basis of who the king treated worse. Which is fair as four of the six were dead by the time the king was dead. Whoo.

She opted to be the first queen because if she goes first, she doesn’t need to focus on the other girls. Dorothea goes to be the last queen so she can keep an eye on the girls’ and their parts. 

After they go through another run down of the songs, they take a quick break. El had them start their rehearsals early, about four months early and twice a week so they can take their time when preparing for their performance. El seems to be a type who’s not a procrastinator, which is typical for someone like her. There’s a stick in her back and Hilda has no interest in removing it.

Mercedes brought cookies and they’re having a quick break, snacking on those. “These are really good,” Hilda says after taking her first bite. “Did you bake these in the kitchen?” They’re sweet but not too sweet, dense and chewy. Hilda’s on her second cookie already.

Mercedes nods and Annette chimes in, beaming, “Mercedes is one of the best bakers around.” Annette plays the 2nd queen, who supplanted Hilda’s queen as the King’s wife and eventually got beheaded.

“Her Faerghus Sweet Buns rivals the ones made in Fhirdiad,” El agrees, taking her third cookie. Seems like she has a sweet tooth, surprisingly. Also surprisingly, she’s playing the 5th queen who’s young and a bit of airheaded flirt. Hilda thought that she and Dorothea would have switched roles.

“She’s brought some Saghert and Cream to the seminars that Professor Hanneman and Manuela run,” Dorothea mentions. “Those are amazing.” One of the prettiest girls on campus, Hilda doesn’t interact with her very much as Dorothea is very much a magic user. Lysithea has spoken begrudgingly of the efforts Dorothea’s put into her studies and how talented she is at it.

Still nibbling on her first cookie, “Yes, these are enjoyable.” Petra agrees, “Though I favor hearty dishes quite a bit.” She plays the 4th queen, a foreigner that the King chose to marry based on a portrait. Hilda’s only spoken to Petra a bit but they don’t really interact with each other, what with the different weapon types and different houses.

“What is Brigid food like?” Mercedes asks curiously as they look at Petra, still on the first half of her cookie.

“We do very much hunting in Brigid,” Petra states, putting her cookie down. “A lot of meat tends to be,” she frowns searching for the word, “game meat I believe. Not common meats here, like rabbit and squirrel. We also do much fishing there as well.”

El nods, “You should talk to Dedue then, Duscur food is very fish based as well, I bet you could exchange recipes with him. I think he’d like that.” She speaks of the tall man from Duscur, who’s expression always seems to be a frown. She’s seen him a lot at Alois’s seminars with the axe but never has much to say, at least to her. 

“Break over,” finishing her second cookie. El glances over at the clock tower. “I want to work on our harmonies a bit and then run through the 2nd group song before we’re done.”

Hilda sighs. This is probably better than helping Seteth with whatever tasks he found for her but she’s really tired right now and Dorothea isn’t letting her rest.

* * *

(17th Day of Verdant Rain Moon, 1180)

The whole monastery is in a tizzy because it’s discovered that Professor Byleth wields the Crest of Flames, which explains why they are capable of wielding the Sword of the Creator. The last holder of the Crest of Flames was said to be Nemesis himself and it was just regarded as one of the Crests lost to history like Aubin or Chevalier. 

It wasn’t supposed to exist anymore as it was a gift from the Goddess. Of course, Jeralt, the Blade Breaker, holds a crest as well, possessing the Major Crest of Seiros. He was not of the Von Hresvelg line, however, but Jeralt was such a legendary figure amongst Fodlan, it wasn’t that strange. Their family certainly must have been blessed by the Goddess, people say, to wield both Crests of the Divine.

The Crest of Seiros was rare and the Crest of Flames hasn't manifested in someone since Nemesis, over a thousand years ago. Professor Hanneman apparently frothed at the mouth for an opportunity to study Professor Byleth. It only builds up the legend surrounding the two, as Jeralt had his own nickname and Professor Byleth was known as the Ashen Demon, for their cold face even when fighting. Eyes are on the two of them now, more now than ever.

* * *

(17th Day of Verdant Rain Moon, 1180)

El blocks a sword blow from Felix, pushing against him slightly. She watches him, waiting for his next move. “You’re upset,” El muses, sidestepping another swing. Others may accuse her of overextending herself with all her goals but it will prepare her for a lifetime by Dimitri’s side. 

Their swords clash against each other as Felix swings his sword furiously. It’s been a long month for everyone; they wait for news of Miklan surfacing in northern Faerghus and they’ve just received a letter from Lord Rodrigue that when they retrieve the Lance of Ruin, Glenn will come to Garreg Mach Monastery to escort it back to Gautier territory. 

Of course, any correspondence from his father makes Felix upset. He’s willing to be petty like that. Felix grunts, lifting his sword over his head. They’ve tried to do sword training at least once a week, just by themselves, like they used to do in Fraldarius territory for the past four years. At this point, they’re able to read each other and they know each other’s move. 

They were both excited to come to Garreg Mach Monastery so they could experience the different fighting styles across the continent, Felix especially. El was just happy that she didn’t have to keep healing their cuts and wounds. 

El bites her lip, concentrating. Felix favors using two hands on his sword while El uses one hand; it keeps her other hand free to cast any spells she might need. It leaves her open to being overpowered by Felix easily especially since she agreed not to light his hair on fire. 

She slides her hand on the handle of her sword, wielding it tightly. It’s different than fighting with an axe, that’s for sure but it’s what she needs in order to beat Felix, like usual.

El jabs a step in, ducking under a swing of Felix’s blade. She spins and turns, using her momentum to raise her sword at Felix’s neck triumphantly. They’ve been using training swords in the practice field. When El feels confident enough in her healing they can move to live metal but at this point it’s better safe than sorry. Additionally, they’re alleviating stress. One might accuse them of being codependent but when a member of their house feels stress or pain, it affects them as well.

“You’re upset,” El repeats, removing her sword from his neck. It didn’t come close to touching him but that’s enough for now. They’ve been training for over an hour and she has Reason magic to study with Annette later today. Felix has always been the best at pushing her to her limits in short amounts of time.

Felix narrows his eyes. “It’s been a weird month,” Felix grunts back at her. She’s tempted to chide him for acting like a barbarian and not using his words but at this point, it’d be like poking a beehive. Not worth it. “You feel it too,” he argues.

“Well,” El sighs, putting her sword back on the ground. “Miklan has surfaced after three years? I think it’s safe to say that this year is going to be a weird year.” Felix has always been oddly in tune with their friends’ feelings. No matter how he denies it, he’s always been able to read them very well. Which is why it is strange to her the reason why he calls Dimitri a boar. What did he see in that invasion from Sreng? What caused him to view Dimitri so lowly?

She jerks her head towards the water barrel. She’s tired and she’s going to need her energy for Reason training later. If Felix wants someone else to abuse with his sword, he can find someone else. 

“It’s more than that,” Felix snaps, he pulls out his hair from the misshapen bun from his head. His black hair drapes over his shoulders, sweaty and slick. “Something feels wrong.”

El puts her training sword back on the rack, sitting on the floor, her legs drooping. Perhaps the stress of the month has gotten to her, she’s usually never this tired after a training session with Felix. 

He ties his hair back up with quick movements of his hands. El pats the dirt next to her, inviting him to sit down next to her. With a heave of a sigh, Felix sits down, his training sword next to him. “Everyone knew it would be a strange year,” she points out. “There’s a rather large number of heirs in our year, more than usual. If it wasn’t weird, it wouldn’t be normal.” Garreg Mach Monastery was supposed to be a place free of Fodlan politics. But with the attendance of the heirs of the three countries at the Officer’s Academy during the same year, the biggest concern would be offending each other through archaic ceremonies. 

But no one expected the re-appearance of Nemesis’s crest and sword or an attack from the Western Church. Additionally, Hero’s crests were never stolen. The most recent theft of one would have been Catherine’s seizure of Thunderbrand, which she wielded before she fled House Charon. If she recalled it properly, Catherine fled Charon territory with everything she had on her, which included Thunderbrand. It was excused because she fled to the safety of the Church. 

“Is that my father talking?” Felix sneers. Glenn may have been the intended student of Lord Rodrigue’s lessons but El listened in as well. Over dinner, they would debate the current affairs of Fodlan politics. What specific land arguments or trade deals were the hot topic over their meals. Felix found them tedious, El found them fascinating.

El shrugs, “We all knew this year would be interesting. But I’ll admit, I suppose no one expected this.”

* * *

(23rd Day of Verdant Rain Moon, 1180)

“Conand Tower,” El echoes, looking over a map of northern Faerghus. The map covers specifically the territory of Galatea, Fraldarius, and Gautier. Wherever Miklan went, he did not go far from the territory of House Gautier.

Dimitri nods. “He’s stuck close to the north, he must be familiar with the area.” It was just the two of them, reviewing the details before they were sent on the mission. After the events of last month, it was just what they needed. Dimitri holds El’s hand as he reviews the map with her.

Sylvain was still a little sore about the topic of Miklan. Ingrid and Felix were still upset over Sylvain’s carelessness during last month’s mission, how let his emotions distract him from the task at hand. They invited Dedue to review the mission details with them but he refused, trying to coax Ashe into helping him garden. Ashe was angry about the Western Church’s use of Lord Lonato in their schemes and Annette was still reeling about who would be accompanying them on their mission for this month.

It would be Gustave, hiding behind the name of Gilbert. When they both had learned of this, they requested that someone else accompany them. Their request was refused, the majority of the Knights of Seiros were out eliminating any members of the Western Church who had participated in the attack during the Rite of Rebirth. Lady Rhea had ordered a purge of the Western Church and its bishop along with the bishop’s followers. So, they were awkwardly stuck with him. They weren’t exactly sure how to handle it.

Gustave had been their teacher when they were young; he taught Dimitri how to use the Lance and El the Axe. When El had learned of what Gilbert had done to his family in the wake of the Tragedy of Duscur, she was angry for Annette and her mother. But it wasn’t her place to lecture anyone about abandoning their family.

In the aftermath of the Tragedy Gustave does not stick out in her mind much until he disappeared in the night without a trace. Everyone was worried even though he had left a note for the King. King Lambert never shared the contents of the note unfortunately, not even to his family.

She was fond of Annette and her sweet nature. Both she and Ashe had grown on El and she would do her best to protect them both. But they had endured very much pain during the school year and there was only so much she could do.

“How’s Sylvain doing?” El asks quietly, poring over the map. She traces a finger over Conand Tower and its surrounding land. There are many small villages up there with very little developed roads. Such is the norm for Faerghus and it’s a bandit’s dream there. They’re lucky it’s almost the end of summer or it would be much harder hunting him down.

“Quiet, for once.” Dimitri answers, “The amount of girls who’ve approached me asking why Sylvain hasn’t asked on a date or flirted with them...the number is very high and concerning,” he says with a frown. He approaches the table, looming over her. She misses the days where he was the same size as her. He could pin her against the table if he wanted to but he won’t. That’s not like Dimitri.

“Truly worrying behavior,” El teases softly, turning towards him. Sylvain was an incorrigible flirt for most of their life and his behavior seemed to indicate that it would never change, until now it seemed. 

Dimitri takes her hands into his, “This mission….will be a hard one for our friends,” he murmurs quietly, looking into her eyes. El sits back on the table, resting her head on his shoulder.

“All of us who got hurt during the Rite of Rebirth, we’ve gone into combat since then we’ll be fine. No one’s had any negative reactions to fighting.” El soothes, rubbing the skin between his thumb and forefinger. “We’ll need to watch Ashe, Annette, and Sylvain but Professor Byleth is aware of the situation. We’ll keep an eye on them. All three of the houses are going so we’ll have strength in numbers. We’re getting better everyday. Like Professor Byleth says, we will cover for each other as a team and any weaknesses we have will be covered by teamwork.”

Dimitri nods silently. “What books have you been reading lately?” He asks, when he woke up in her room, there was a stack of books piled on the desk, all with various topics. She’s been busy reading during her down time when she’s not running around the monastery.

“Right now….it’s the Church of Seiros and how it functions,” El says with a laugh. The role of the church in Faerghus and Adrestia were completely different. Her education in the church customs didn’t truly start until she ended up in Faerghus. In the Empire, Count Varley was the Minister of Religion and despite his title, he didn’t do very much with the Church of Seiros. 

“A lot of the church is funded based on donations and tithing, they don’t actually incur any taxes, probably because of the way each government functions. It would be difficult for them to do otherwise without each country claiming biases against them.” El informs him, leaning against the table. “My uncle, Lord Arundel, was a major donor to the Church of Seiros and then he just stopped.”

The last time she saw him was years ago before the Tragedy of Kleiman. She missed him but as King Lambert explained to her, he didn’t make any attempts to re-enter the Kingdom, only writing letters to him, just him. Even when her mother had died, Lord Arundel didn’t write to her. She was sad when she was young but now, she didn’t know what to think of it.

Dimitri stares at El, absorbing the information. “Really?” He tilts his head curiously. El rubs a thumb between his thumb and forefinger, feeling each heavy callus.

El nods, “He gave major sums to the church, eye-boggling amounts really but then just stopped in 1174. Right around that time, he also stopped writing to me,” she droops quite a bit. As she’s grown older, she’s read about his complicity in the Insurrection and the seizure of the palace and her father but she remembers...Her uncle had loved her dearly. They never wrote anymore, King Lambert never got another letter from after Patricia died.

Dimitri presses a kiss to her hair. “I’m sure there’s a reason,” he murmurs quietly, gripping her hands a little tighter. He pulls her in close, letting her rest her head on his shoulder.

“It’s fine,” El brushes him off with a tight smile. Her ghosts won’t haunt her anymore.

* * *

(31st Day of Verdant Rain Moon, 1180)

Of course it’s raining when they go on the hunt for Miklan and his band of bandits. Pouring rain really, which sends chills down everyone who isn’t prepared for Faerghus weather. Poor Petra gets the brunt of it as she’s more used to the warm weather of Brigid. As they’ve broken into the base of Conand Tower, they light small fires to warm everyone up. 

They divide cloaks between those who are the coldest, which were Caspar, Linhardt, Lysithea, Ashe, and Petra. Dimitri has already slung his cloak around El who shivers in the rain. Conand Tower is several floors tall and they’ve already run into a couple of bandits who scurried back into the tower. Miklan probably already knows they’re there.

It’s been a quiet affair since they left the monastery. They’ve kept their best to keep Annette away from her father, a full blown confrontation right now wouldn’t do anyone any good. They’ve kept Ashe distracted with tales around the fire, so he doesn’t think too much about Lord Lonato; they’ve learned that Mercedes likes telling ghost stories and a number of them are terrified of them. Sylvain’s kept quiet the entire time, not even a compliment to spare even Hilda or Dorothea. Sylvain’s the one they worry about most.

Professor Byleth leads the vanguard, taking Dimitri and Ferdinand with her alongside with Dedue, Hubert, Dorothea, El, Felix, and Sylvain. The rear is covered by Gilbert with Raphael, Caspar, Hilda, Claude, Linhardt, Ashe, Mercedes, and Leonie. The middle group is split into two with Ignatz, Annette, Lorenz, Marianne and Petra, Bernadetta, Lysithea, and Ingrid.

Conand Tower was clearly abandoned when they first entered. Sections of the tower are missing walls, dust is everywhere with abandoned weapons. A perfect spot for a bandit hideout really. It’s easy getting up the tower, most of the bandits are probably on the top level. 

Finally, it takes them almost an hour to reach the top floor. Crouching near the doors, Petra places her ear towards the heavy doors. “They are there,” Petra murmurs quietly to Byleth. “I do not believe they are right outside the door but we must be careful.”

Byleth looks to the back, waving over anyone who can use a bow; this includes Ignatz, Ashe, Petra, Bernadetta, Mercedes, and Claude. They place them on the sides of the door, to cover those who go in first which are planned to be Dedue, Raphael, Dimitri, El, Ferdinand, Hubert, and Lorenz with Byleth. Gilbert will cover the back just in case any bandits who weren’t in the tower try to ambush them.

Dedue and Raphael push the heavy iron wrought doors open and they scan the entrance. They are only a few bandits there, who are quickly taken down by the barrage of arrows and magic launched at them. The reason why it took so long for them to climb the tower is because the tower was spiraled, which makes it doubly more impressive that Miklan was able to seize it with his bandit crew. No one’s going to mention that to Sylvain though.

It’s slowgoing up that final floor however, there are several ambushes of waves of bandits attacking them unprepared. Quickly though, the groups get divided into three. 

Gilbert stays behind to cover the rear and when noises of fighting reach them, Annette turns back to help her father. Even those years of resentment could not stop Annette’s love for him. Mercedes quickly follows her with Ashe, Dedue, Hilda, Caspar, Lysithea, and Linhardt following behind.

The other group stay and face the several ambushes to cover those who are making the final push to Miklan who stays in the central part of the top level of the tower. Never one to back down from a fight are Petra, Lorenz, Dorothea, Raphael, Leonie and Ferdinand. Bernadetta, Marianne, and Ignatz stay with them because hiding behind pillars and sniping down their enemies seems productive.

The final group is led by Sylvain who spies his brother by his bright red hair and chases after him with Dimitri, El, Felix, Ingrid, Byleth, Claude and Hubert in close pursuit. This is a fight Sylvain will not lose against his brother.

Miklan’s face snarls when he catches the sight of his younger brother, who is stone-faced in return. “They really sent a spoiled brat like you.” Miklan scoffs. Sylvain remains silent, staring his older brother down. He wields his lance tightly in his hand.

Sylvain readies his horse, Chastity, as Dimitri studies Sylvain. El keeps others back, her eyes never leaving Miklan, disgusted by what he became. Two brothers turned to this.

Without warning, Sylvain spurs his horse forward, catching Miklan and the others off guard. Keeping his eyes focused on Miklan, he disarms his brother with a clang of his lance. The Lance of Ruin falls, almost writhing on the ground, a little ways away from Miklan.

Sylvain rears his horse on the other side of Miklan, separated from the others. Calm and never blinking, “Surrender Miklan,” he utters, his voice low and grounded. “You can’t win.”

Miklan scuttles to seize the Lance of Ruin, holding it in front of him. “Shut up!” He screams, he points the lance at Sylvain. “You! You- ruined my life,” he growls. “If it was for you being born-”

“I’m tired of hearing that,” Sylvain snaps, interrupting him. He takes a deep breath, calming himself. He stares Miklan down. “I didn’t ask to be born and I certainly didn’t ask for this,” he murmurs gently.

Miklan grunts, looking away. When the Lance of Ruin starts to writhe and the crest stone implanted in the center begins to glow, Miklan stares aghast. “What?” He tries to drop the Lance but by then, a black substance begins to grow and devours his hand.

“Miklan?” Sylvain asks, reaching out his hand.

“Sylvain!” Felix yells, “Get out of there,” jostling Sylvain who takes back his hand, staring at the figure of his brother being overtaken by a black goo that continues to grow. He rears his horse, giving Miklan’s screaming and convulsing body a wide berth as he rejoins the others.

Dimitri steps in front, “What?” They watch the transformation of Miklan into a large beast, a Black Beast. 

The Black Beast bares its fangs and roars into the tower. They back away both in awe and fear. “Time to go,” Professor Byleth murmurs, turning around and sprinting away, they bring up the rear as they make sure no one is left behind.

They catch Raphael, cleaning his gauntlets. “Oh, done already?” He asks expectantly, putting them back on.

Before they can answer, the roar of the Black Beast interrupts as the tower begins to shake when it gives chase. 

Marianne stares at the monster, scrambling down the steps, wide-eyed in fear. “Let’s go,” Lorenz mutters sweeping her up on his horse behind him. He holds onto her tight as they run away.

They run down the tower, having several flights of stairs to go before they reach the bottom floor. But it will take too long, the Black Beast is making the tower unstable and if the wrong column falls, it could collapse on all of them. This tower is a relic from the past.

Near the back of the group, El says to Dimitri. “We should be standing our ground,” she looks back behind her, the Black Beast scrambling quickly behind them. “It can’t take all of us.”

“You really want to take that bet?” Claude asks, gesturing towards the Black Beast, far bigger than anything seen in Fodlan. He doesn’t like the idea of heading this monster face on. 

She raises her head towards Dimitri who sighs. “Professor Byleth!” He calls out, once he sees the orange hair of Annette and Gilbert come into view. The Black Beast is a few minutes behind. They’ve reached a flat clearing, any place if any for their showdown.

“Alright,” Professor Byleth says out loud. “Archers to the back!” They call out, as they get into formation. “Any cavalry goes to the front, including you Ingrid,” they command, raising the Sword of the Creator at the ready. “I want anyone who can use magic to try and hit it first, see if it’s weak to magic. Infantry, follow my lead.”

The Black Beast comes into view, on four legs with large spikes on its back, big enough to impale a full grown man. 

Dorothea strikes first, a Thoron slamming down on its skull. El follows it up in tandem with a Bolganone with a Cutting Gale from Annette. Hubert and Lysithea hit it with a one two strike of Mire and Dark Spikes as well. The others cast spells that only seem to bounce off it harmlessly. The Black Beast roars and narrows its gaze at the group, who shudder and step back at its deafening scream. 

It charges and is met with a three punch hit of Dedue, Raphael, and Gilbert where Gilbert raises his shield to protect the two and is battered away, rolling on the ground. “Father!” Annette screams, covered by the cavalry. 

Claude fires his arrow, joined by several others, hitting the Black Beast in its mouth. It rears up and Dimitri launches his javelin, near the haunches of the Black Beast. Claude sees where the javelin lands and fires another arrow quickly near the same place where Dimitri’s javelin landed. Lysithea calls down a new spell, a new Faith spell that she has not been tested out just quite yet.

“Seraphim!” As a white light envelopes and surrounds the monster, causing great damage to the Black Beast. It roars but remains standing. 

“Go for its ankles,” Professor Byleth orders, raising the Sword of the Creator. They, Felix, Caspar, and Petra rush towards the Beast, sliding underneath it, running their weapons towards its ankles, slicing through its tendons.

The cavalry launch themselves towards the Black Beast, running it through their pointed lances, ignoring the pained shrieks of the Black Beast. Sylvain turns, hitting it last watching the Black Beast collapse in pain. Its body collapses in on itself, twitching in agony. Sylvain raises his lance, murmuring an apology, and strikes the Black Beast down in its skull. 

The Black Beast explodes and Sylvain is caught in its ensuing explosion. 

“Sylvain!” Felix yells as his unconscious body hits a pillar. El raises a hand, summoning the runes for a new spell and casts a Physic spell onto Sylvain as she runs closer to him. He lies still, his head slightly bleeding from the blow. Mercedes is close to follow with a Physic spell of her own. Together, they focus their healing on Sylvain who groans, still slightly conscious. They keep him steady, his head in Mercedes’ lap, as they heal him.

Annette runs over to her father, reaching for her own Heal magic as well. She cradles his head in her lap, focusing on healing his wounds. Linhardt joins as well, helping Annette heal her father.

Resisting the urge to run over to Sylvain’s body, Dimitri grasps his lance in hand, and approaches the dissipating smoke where the Black Beast had laid with Professor Byleth. What remains is Miklan, dead, and the Lance of Ruin by his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three guesses to the musical I'm referencing.
> 
> This may come as a shock to people but I'm a history nerd. A lot of my general understanding and world building of Fodlan and Church politics come from my background in History, mainly English history during the Reformation time period. (Was also an Anne Boleyn Fan girl but all queens are equal).
> 
> The church used to levy taxes on the commoners at the same time noblemen did as a way to support the churches all over Europe. They also had commoners working church land as well. Here, in Fodlan, it doesn't work like that being there is no Southern Church in Adrestia with the placement of the Minister of Religion with our favorite father, Count Varley. *Hiss.
> 
> So now they rely mostly on gifts from noblemen and their own selling of works- like books, tapestries, fabrics. They have a monopoly on the production of books, which is how they control the flow of reading and information- because why not. No printing presses, right?
> 
> El is also not a better swordsmen than Felix. She might by physically stronger but our favorite angsty boy is probably the third best swordsmen in the monastery, behind Professor Byleth and Catherine. This chapter Felix is very concerned about Sylvain and is distracted when they are fighting. But of course, doesn't say anything because he's like that. He's also worried about Glenn traveling down the monastery, because while Glenn is a decent fighter now if he gets overwhelmed with bandits, bye bye Glenn. (This is not foreshadowing to anything, I promise)
> 
> El doesn't exactly know what Miklan did to Sylvain but she has a gut feeling. She's shared this gut feeling with Dimitri, who doesn't necessarily agree with her but he's seen what Crests can do to a brotherly relationship, Felix and Glenn are the outlier, not the norm.
> 
> As always thanks for reading- if anyone wants to talk about the story, I'm always here.


	12. Part II Chapter VII

* * *

(1st Day of Horsebow Moon, 1180)

They wait for the rain to end before going back to the Monastery. Both Gilbert and Sylvain have made a full recovery and they keep the Lance of Ruin bundled away in a blanket, fearful to touch it. There are many rumors about the Three Houses and the sight they saw with Miklan and the Black Beast. Those who were there to see it are quick to spread the tale of the gruesome transformation.

Lady Rhea will forbid people to speak of the Black Beast incident, which means everyone in the monastery will know about it.

Felix stays close to Sylvain as do the others who grew up with him. Every couple of hours, El checks on Sylvain to ensure there is no lasting physical damage, running her small hands with healing magic over any lasting physical wounds. When Sylvain wakes, they feed him their rations and some small sips of water. No one asks him how he is doing, Miklan’s dead body is covered by a shroud on the ground. They weren’t sure what to do with him. Would Margrave Gautier accept his body in the graveyard or would he be treated as a thief and a bandit?

At one point during the night, Sylvain goes to bury his brother in the rain with only Felix accompanying him. They don’t mention the tears.

El tucks herself underneath the same blanket as Dimitri, curling into him and their voices are murmuring low as they digest the events of last night. There was some hope that they could take Miklan alive but those proved false and even more worrisome was the appearance of the Black Beast.

Marianne’s gone into some sort of fit, much to Claude and Hilda’s worry. The usually quiet and somber girl hasn’t said much since the fall of the Black Beast. She’s entered into some sort of fugue state, not even reacting to when Hilda or Claude speak to her. She tucks her knees into her chest and keeps her head down, unhearing to their concerns. Mercedes has checked up on her to see if she is wounded but it seems the only thing afflicting her is her own mind.

Mercedes stays close to Annette who lingers near her father. He nearly was overtaken by Miklan’s band of bandits that waited near the front of the tower to ambush them on the highest floor. It’s the first time she’s spent time with him in years as he is held almost captive with his wounds.

The others stay bundled up in their blankets, trying to keep warm with downpour of rain. Conand Tower is not in the best shape and they quickly learn where the leaks and holes are in the tower.

They wait in Conand Tower for the rain to end as the ramifications of the night will spread over to Fodlan.

* * *

(2nd Day of Horsebow Moon, 1180)

When they come back to the monastery, two things are waiting for them. The first is Glenn, there to retrieve the Lance of Ruin for Margrave Gautier, who doesn’t dare leave the northern border open to Sreng attack. Ingrid flushes red, trying to brush off the dust from her dirtied appearance. He stays, much to the delight of the Blue Lions, which includes Felix.

Two, is the disappearance of Flayn, the larger concern of the two much to Seteth’s fear and concern. Seteth has almost ripped his hair out, the stress clearly debilitating the man. Seteth had left for the Western Church with the Knights of Seiros during the second half of the month to oversee the cleanse of those who betrayed Rhea.

Flayn stayed at the monastery, much to her disappointment, but with so many gone from the monastery during the last days of the month as the Knights of Seiros left for the Western Church and the students leaving for Conand Tower; it was hard to track her daily activities. Most confessed to seeing her by the fishing pond and the library but that was it.

Flayn was missing, they cannot find her.

* * *

(2nd Day of Horsebow Moon, 1180)

Ingrid walks with Glenn, stiff and untouching. Ingrid finds writing much easier than conversing it seems. Dorothea had offered to style Ingrid’s hair and make-up and touch up her clothes but Ingrid refused. She felt that it would be disingenuous to who she was. But now as Glenn walks with her, she feels plain.

“How is your training going?” Glenn asks, awkwardly as they stroll the training grounds.

“Well!” Ingrid answers awkwardly. “I’ve, um, passed my Pegasus Knight certification so I’ve been working with a Pegasus of my own; I’ve named her Adele. Do you want to meet her?” Adele has only been in her care for a few weeks but Ingrid’s been doing her best to take care of her every single day, visiting the stables to make sure her stall is clean and she has enough hay to eat.

Felix hasn’t been too happy because it’s cutting into her training time with him. But her bond with Adele will be the most important thing as she continues to train. If she is to ride Adele into battle, she needs to make sure there is a strong bond between the two and that the training is there for Adele. It would not do if Adele were to buck her off during battle.

“That’s good to hear,” Glenn says with a gentle smile. “Perhaps sometime this week,” he suggests softly. He’ll only be here for a few days, he’ll have to leave the Gautier territory soon. “Your school year has certainly been eventful,” he laughs. “Between the Western Church and now this, it’s hard to believe it hasn’t even been a full six months.” Glenn wrote to her while he was at the monastery, Ingrid recalls. He only had a few bandit attacks to quell, nothing like what their class has endured.

Ingrid shrugs. Truthfully, the school year has been chaotic; the bandit attack during their first month proved to be a true eye opener for her and the others and it was only the beginning. “It’s been a good learning experience,” she replies honestly. “This will make us stronger.” Their time at the Garreg Mach Monastery will help them in the future; what they learn here will be important as they become the leaders of the nations.

Glenn’s eyes flicker over her, examining her. “True,” Glenn admits. “But it seems a little odd that it happens this year. When the prince of Faerghus, the future duke of House Riegan, and the heir to the Empire attend the monastery, all these events happen,” he shakes his head.

Ingrid looks at him curiously, “Is this Lord Rodrigue talking?” She asks curiously. Glenn’s been working closer with Lord Rodrigue, learning more about the bureaucracy of the Kingdom of Faerghus as Felix will take over being the Shield of Faerghus.

Glenn flushes momentarily, light red spots appearing on his cheekbones. “It’s what everyone is saying at court,” he replies quickly. “Just the timing of everything...is strange.” He’s spending more time with King Lambert, assisting him in his daily tasks as his father stays in Fraldarius territory. This is the role that he will be serving with Dimitri as Felix will most likely be his right hand in the battle field.

“Well, the Western Church was involved with the Rite of Rebirth and Lord Lonato so that’s two of the five months and no one could have thought that Miklan would attempt to steal the Lance of Ruin,” Ingrid points out, with a frown. “It may just be poor timing. Flayn’s an odd girl, Seteth is so overprotective of her that it is concerning that something happened to her but I’m sure we’ll find her soon.” She looks at him.

“You will be careful taking the Lance of Ruin back to Margrave Gautier.” She says pointedly, looking at his missing sword hand. In the five years since the Tragedy of Duscur, Glenn has recovered nicely to the loss of his dominant hand. He’s trained it up enough that he can serve as a proper sparring partner but it probably wouldn’t be best if he didn’t face live combat.

Laughing, Glenn responds, “I will.” He frowns, “Do you think Dedue liked my present?” Dedue’s birthday was the same day as the mission and they weren’t able to celebrate it much to Dimitri’s disappointment. Dedue did not mind, of course, but they had a small celebration with Ashe cooking a Spicy Fish Stew in the kitchens when they returned. Glenn had gifted Dedue a custom made fishing rod as Dedue’s had a tendency to break every few weeks.

“I think he did,” Ingrid answers. She with El had given Dedue new furs that Petra and Leonie had shown them how to hunt and Dedue was seen wearing them around the monastery when it was raining. “You know how Dedue is, silent but grateful. I can’t imagine how Seteth must feel.” She says with a frown. She has a couple of younger siblings herself, which made her marriage to Glenn so important as it will be what feeds them in the future. The thought of any of them going missing, even for just a day, chilled her.

Glenn nods, “She’s fairly young, right?” Flayn had not been at the Officer’s Academy and was unfamiliar with her. He knew Seteth, however, and the emotion that the stern older man was showing was disorienting at the very least.

Ingrid frowns, “I think so- she’s a bit odd, I think Seteth is a bit overprotective when it comes to her. She’s a bit trusting when it comes to everyone and very...naive and inexperienced. She asked Dorothea what the opera was even though she was born in Enbarr…”

Glenn furrows his brow in confusion. “That is a little weird,” he murmurs quietly. Professor Manuela had made the Mittlefrank Opera Company renowned across Fodlan and even if Flayn wasn’t familiar with that specific operatic company, the opera was still a popular pastime for those in the Empire. He shakes his head, his long black hair flying around. “Do you want to go to the training grounds?”

* * *

(5th Day of Horsebow Moon 1180)

El sits perched on the ladder, her boots lying flat on the lowest step. She took them off for comfort thirty minutes ago as they were cramping her feet. She’s been scouring the library for any books about the Heroes’ Relics. Tomas was away from the monastery so she’s been going over the shelves for any books that provide information about the origin of the Heroes’ Relics.

Because of her background, she knows the truth about Nemesis and the Ten Elites but the origin of the Heroes’ Relics has never been addressed in the Hresvelg line unfortunately. Wilhelm von Hresvelg was not awarded a Heroes’ Relic by Saint Seiros despite bearing her Crest.

The emergence of the Sword of Creator sparked her interest last month but seeing them both, the Sword and the Lance of Ruin, they had struck her as almost moving, which was disturbing to say the least. Weapons being able to move without their wielder’s intention disturbed her.

She sniffs, putting the last book she was reading back. One of the benefits of Tomas not being in the monastery is that she can read whatever book she wants to her heart’s content and not have her reasons scrutinized. The old librarian was very helpful in finding useful books to read but he often asked so many questions about her selections. But in this situation, his help may have been useful as the last book she read wasn’t very helpful as it only described the Heroes’ Relics in very ‘flowery’ terms. Utterly useless.

“You researching the same thing I’m researching?” Claude says, leaning against a bookshelf. El jolts, almost falling off the ladder. “Whoa!” Claude reaches to support her from falling, placing a hand on her elbow.

“If you mean the Heroes’ Relics,” she answers primly, stepping off the ladder. “You may be correct.” She brushes off any dust that may have collected on her uniform. Her eyes flicker over to Claude expectantly. They’ve found each other in the library enough times that they’ve given each other reading recommendations.

“Not going to find anything here,” Claude says with a grin. “I checked last month. Tomas helped me. He’s back by the way, over by the treasure vault.”

El tilts her head questioningly. “Really? Nothing useful here about the Heroes’ Relics?” At Garreg Mach Monastery? The headquarters for the Church of Seiros had no useful information on the Heroes’ Relics, the gifts given by Seiros herself.

“Nope,” Claude shakes his head. “Nothing,” he repeats. “Which is odd, something I thought you’d agree with as well.” She did. If Crests were seen as the foundation of Fodlan society, then the Heroes Relics were the walls. Heroes Relics were a source of pride for any major house that wielded a crest. Although there were some major houses that had crests that did not have a hero's relic, like House of Hresvelg or House of Aegir, they still featured prominently in Fodlan politics.

She would never tell Claude this but the urgency behind retrieving the Lance of Ruin was because it was instrumental in protecting the border from Sreng. It was used heavily during the annexation of southern Sreng and was a symbol of power for the Tower of North and House Gautier.

El bit her tongue. “It is strange,” she agrees. “I guess my interest has been piqued with all the Heroes’ Relics we’ve come into contact with since the school year started.” They’ve run into at least three Heroes Relics in three months and the year still hasn’t stopped being eventful. She slips her boots back on over her black leggings, not noticing Claude’s appreciative looks roaming over her legs.

“Yeah,” Claude says, shaking his head ruefully. “The Sword of the Creator is the one from the legends, the one that could cut a mountain in half. A little jealous that you get to be up close and personal with Teach and get to see how it’s used.” Professor Byleth would never use it for such a silly task but El had seen the Sword of the Creator sparingly since the Professor pulled it out of the tomb. Emotionless as they were, Professor Byleth did not use it during bandit skirmishes, only wielding it in serious situations, like this last house mission.

El nods, the amount of power that emanates from the Professor when she uses the Heroes’ Relic is impressive, living up to their legendary mercenary status. “Does House Riegan not have a Heroes’ Relic?” She asks curiously. She has seen King Lambert use Areadhbar on occasion, mostly when she was younger but not unlike day to day use, not unlike the Professor.

“We do,” Claude confirms. “Failnaught, my grandfather keeps it under lock and key for the most part.” Speaking of Duke Riegan, El had heard the older man was strict and recalcitrant, not responding to any attempts at reaching out by King Lambert. Because the Alliance was, well, an alliance of Dukes, Duke Riegan may have been the leader but he did not wield very much power outside of his own dukedom.

Some may even say he lost pull with the Alliance with the death of his son and heir Godfrey. The emergence of an heir that no one knew about until a year ago did not help his cause. She doubts that with the polite society, wildly wielding a Heroes Relic would not earn him many allies or friends.

Some noise erupts around the corner and she sees Annette scurry away, red in the face as Felix follows her with a rare smile. El narrows her eyes at the sight. Claude’s eyes follow her, watching them turn the corner and leave the library together. She loves Felix as a brother but a smiling Felix is a rare Felix.

El nods, absentmindedly. “I should probably go,” she says with a smile. She notes to herself to talk to both Annette and Felix. “I have training with Dedue soon. It was nice to see you Claude.” Despite her choice of going with the Mage certification, she is actually planning to go down the Brigand once she feels that she’s mastered all that she needs. The fact that she’s learned Physic will increase her range but her time during the Rite of Rebirth proved that she needs to focus on her physical attacks as well as magical.

She needs to support her house in any way she can; after all, she is engaged to Dimitri. She is attending the Officer’s Academy to lend him her strength in the future.

* * *

(7th Day of Horsebow Moon, 1180)

So Bernie was minding her own business in her room. She was sad to hear that Flayn was missing but if she tried helping, she wouldn’t be very much help and would probably hinder than help. So she stayed in her room. She was working on a scarf for Raphael who was complaining about the cold weather, coming from the Leceister Alliance that had more temperate weather.

A knock on the door, “Bernadetta?” Ingrid’s voice drifted in. “Are you there?” She and Ingrid hadn’t talked much, Ingrid was always in the training field and Bernie wasn’t. Bernie was tempted not to answer.

“Bernadetta, the professor says that we need to check your room, just in case.” Ingrid sighs, tiredly. “I know you may not want to but I’m going to need you to open the door.”

“What?” Bernie squeaks. “Why?” They didn’t need to check her room; she hardly knew Flayn and she knew Flayn wasn’t in there. There wasn’t enough room for two girls to live in there.

“The professor suggested it; we’re just cutting down leads,” Ingrid informs her. “Please Bernadetta, don’t make me get the professor or worse.” What could possibly be worse than this?

Bernadetta remains silent, praying that Ingrid leaves to go get the professor. Perhaps she could talk reason into her own student. She stays curled up on the bed, knees tucked to her chest, waiting. She wraps her arms around her knees and prays.

Bang! Ingrid breaks open the door, hanging half of its hinges. Bernie stares, half in horror and terror.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Ingrid says tiredly. Her blue eyes scan the room quickly, looking for Flayn. “She isn’t here, like I thought.”

“IF you thought she wasn’t here, why did you break open the door!” Bernadetta screams, her voice shrill. She’s fairly tempted to throw something at Ingrid like a pillow but the girl just broke open a door, she could do something worse.

“Ingrid!” El stands in the door, agape staring at the scene, her purple eyes in a fury. A stack of books under her elbow. “Why?!”

“The professor asked me to go check her room,” Ingrid informs her. “Bernadetta refused to open the door,” she states plainly.

“Did you ask if she was in the room?” El examines the broken hinges, running her fingers over them, looking over at Bernadetta, who’s clearly terrified by two more people in her room. El backs up, going back to the entrance, coaxing Ingrid out. Without waiting for an answer, El orders. “Go find the blacksmith, we’re going to need replacement hinges for the door.”

Ingrid sighs, shaking her head and exits, headed for the marketplace. Bernie freezes in terror. She feels so exposed with the door open like this.

“I’m terribly sorry about that,” El apologizes to Bernadetta, outside of the room. “She’s been a little nervous ever since the Rite of Rebirth. I’ll talk to her and the Professor about her actions today.” She shakes her head, looking at the door one more time, avoiding eye contact with Bernadetta.

Bernadetta shakes, nervously. With the door broken, just anyone can come into her room, which is her worst nightmare of all time.

“Do you want to come to my room?” El asks gently, not approaching Bernadetta as if she’s a frightened cat. “I’m on the bottom floor too, tucked away behind the stairs. I have errands to run so I won’t be in there today, just as long as your door gets fixed.”

Bernadetta stares at her, her mouth agape. “I couldn’t-” The offer is tempting but if word comes back to her father about El, even if she is the prince’s fiancee, she can’t be friends with a commoner.

“Yes, you can.” El smiles softly. “Come, gather your things. I’ll show you where my room is,” she orders, calmly. Bernadetta finds herself following them, almost as if in a trance. “I’ll have Ingrid fix up the door hinges for you, it’s the least she could do,” as Bernadetta gathers her knitting, her books, and favorite blanket. “Do you want any help with that?” Bernadetta nods.

They walk down the steps, El carrying the books in a neat stack. Bernadetta also grabbed her journal as well, her chest tight. She hates being outside and though El is treating it as a nice stroll, she hates this.

“...Count Varley’s daughter, correct?” Bernadetta jolts, not hearing the first part of the question. El smiles expectantly at her, her long brown hair fluttering in the wind perfectly. “You are from House Varley.” El confirms. Bernadetta nods, quickly, daring not to talk. She’d rather not talk about her father for obvious reasons.

They end up at the bottom of the stairs. “Here we are,” El says brightly. Bernadetta stares at her room, almost slightly jealous. She didn’t even know there was a room there! “I’m going to put these here,” she deposits the stack of books on her desk. “This is all yours,” she says looking around the room. “Hope you don’t mind all the blue,” she teases lightly. She turns to Bernadetta, who was still looking all over the room.

“I have some training for the day but I will let Ingrid know where you are and that she needs to have the room fixed by tonight, as I believe you and I would not want to be sharing a room by then.” El informs her. “Hope you have a good day Bernadetta, and you are more than welcome to lock the door,” she exits the room briskly, her long brown hair flowing behind her.

Bernadetta settles on the bed, noting the thick comforter on the bed. She takes off her shoes, just sitting there. El was really nice to lend her the room but she can’t help but feel out of place. She looks over the stack of books that El left in the room, reading the first cover. “The Origins of Heroes’ Relics,” she reads out loud.

Strange reading for such a nice girl. While she herself bears the crest of Saint Indech, her family does not have a Heroes Relic. She’s never had too much interest in them otherwise.

Later that day, Hubert offered to Bernadetta to speak to Ingrid about the impropriety of destroying a young girl’s door, through the closed door of El’s room. She faints instead.

* * *

(8th Day of Horsebow Moon, 1180)

It's the Founding of the Alliance Day and the monastery is celebrating it with a big feast in the dining hall, much to Raphael’s delight. They have all the Alliance food specials, like Daphanel Stew and Derdriu-Style Fried Pheasant. He’s already on his third serving.

“Hey Bernadetta!” Raphael cheers, sitting down with another plate of Gronder Meat Skewers. “How are you doing?”

Bernadetta meeps, and then turns to Raphael. “I’m good, how are you?” She’s nibbling on a small platter of Country-Style Red Turnip Plate. He’s talked to Bernadetta a bit, mostly about food when he learned that she was on cooking duty a lot with the Professor and a couple of other students.

“Real good,” he beams. “Just munching on some skewers right now but I might take another look at the pheasant again.” Raphael’s been looking forward to this all month after he spent yesterday helping Professor Byleth look for Flayn. He feels awful bad for Seteth, if Maya ever went missing...well, he’d do anything he could to find her.

Bernadetta nods hesitantly. “I think Ashe and Dedue made that, it looks really good too.” He’s heard that Ashe and Dedue has been on the cooking duty too, usually cooking really good fish dishes.

“We’re really lucky to have people like you and Mercedes help with cooking; not that I’m sure the chef wouldn’t do a great job but I bet they like having you guys help out,” Raphael compliments heavily, shoving another skewer into his mouth; the words working there way around the food.

Bernadetta inadverdently flushes, “I’m pretty sure I’m more of a hindrance than a help though,” she says weakly. She makes so many mistakes in the kitchen and even though the cooks don’t say anything about it, she’s pretty sure that they think she’s a bother.

“Nah,” Raphael brushes off. “If I had someone like you cooking for me, it’d make my whole life.” He grins brightly, a speck of food covering his dimple.

“Raphael,” Bernadetta starts, then stops hesitating.

“Hm?” Raphael asks, starting on another skewer. He piled his plate high with them so he has several more.

“You have a bit of-,” she gestures with her hand, towards his right cheek. Raphael swipes at his face with his left hand, the one not carrying the skewer of meat. Bernadetta reaches for his face with a small napkin in her hand, wiping away the crumb of food.

“Sorry!” She squeaks, realizing what she’s done, scrunching the napkin on the plate.

Raphael shakes his head. “Thanks Bernadetta!” He thanked her, cheerfully. “That was awfully nice of you.”

Seteth stalks by, ignoring the festivities and food around them. She’s never really talked to Seteth all that much but the fact that Flayn’s gone missing makes her feel bad for him. He’s always been stern but doesn’t mind it so much when she misses class and stays inside of her room.

At least, he’s never lectured her about it.

Raphael shakes his head, watching Seteth go by. “I wish I could offer him some food,” Raphael says regretfully, “If I thought it would help him. If my sister ever went missing like this...” he sighs deeply and fully. “There’d be no stone unturned until I found her.”

“You have siblings?” Bernadetta asks curiously. She was an only child and didn’t have many friends growing up on account of her father.

“Just the one,” Raphael grins. “My little sister, Maya. She’s the best sister ever,” he shakes his head. “She was the one who wanted me to come to the Officer’s Academy. I wasn’t a great merchant,” Raphael explains. “I’m not good at pushing people to buy or making deals. Forget about haggling. If I can become a knight, I can make sure that she and my gramps can live well.” He shakes his head, as if to get rid of the bad feelings surrounding him. “I do miss them but it’s only a year and then I can go back.”

“That’s really great of you,” Bernadetta states shyly. She can’t tell him that she was forced to come to the Officer’s Academy. She knows that the fee to attend the Officer’s Academy wasn’t cheap; she’s heard both Dorothea and Leonie complain about the steep fees that it cost to just even be here. But for Raphael to come to a new place on his own was awfully brave of him.

Raphael shrugs, “It is what it is. Thanks for talking to me Bernadetta,” he says cheerfully. He lifts the empty plate of food. “I’m gonna grab some more stuff. I’ll see you around!”

* * *

(19th Day of Horsebow Moon)

When they come back from a bandit excursion, Felix, Ingrid, and Ashe are beat up along with Caspar, Leonie, Petra, and Raphael. They bear several cuts, wounds, and bruises as they limp back into the entrance of the monastery. Linhardt and Mercedes meet them out front as blood drips from their wounds.

“Oh my!” Mercedes lifts a delicate hand to her mouth as she takes in the wounded. “What happened?” Raphael drops Petra to the ground as she lies unconscious on the floor, no obvious wounds but the usually energetic girl stays limp.

Ingrid presses a cloth to the bleeding wound on her forehead. “Black Beasts are out there,” she explains tiredly, as the blood seeps into the fabric. “We ran into one while we were taking care of bandits…”

Mercedes raises a healing hand as she examines the rest of them. “Were you able to kill it?” She asks, feeling for any broken bones before she begins healing the cuts and open wounds.

Ashe nods, exhausted. He had stayed in the back using his arrows to distract the beast, not taking nearly as much damage as the others. He had helped Caspar stumble back to the monastery as he was caught helping Raphael take down the large monster. “Petra should be okay, I think the Black Beast’s tail knocked her out when she was trying to sneak up on it in the bushes.”

“Someone needs to tell the Archbishop and Professor Byleth,” Felix says, strapping a bandage tightly on Leonie’s leg wound. The bandits were not above using the Black Beast as a distraction to attack the other students and struck her while she was distracted. “Black Beasts are roaming around, people should be told about this.”

Lindhart nods calmly, focusing his healing on Caspar’s back. “We should get another healer here,” he says to Mercedes quickly. “Someone like El or Marianne, even Professor Manuela.” There was a lot of damage for two people to handle.

“If she’s not recovering from her latest hangover,” Felix snaps, sitting back down. He had struck the final blow on the Black Beast but it took many strikes to take it down; it’s armor was thick and strong, feeling like it was an eternity to defeat the monster.

He’s not bleeding too much but only because he focused on dodging the bandits’ strikes before they hit him.

“I think she’s been researching Flayn’s disappearance,” Mercedes states calmly. “Dorothea said that when she couldn’t attend our singing rehearsals.”

“Singing rehearsals?” Ingrid asks Mercedes, distracted, she’s trying to stop the bleeding of her head wound and she looks a little woozy, wobbling as she tries to stand back up.

“Please sit back down,” Linhardt orders stiffly. “If you fall over, that’s another wound we need to take care of.”

“Yes, we have a performance scheduled for the winter ball,” Mercedes explains. “Professor Manuela has had us preparing for it for a while.” She purses her lips, examining Raphael’s arm and back. “Linhardt, I might need some help with this one.” There’s so much to cover on Raphael’s back as broad as he is. The shirt he wears has been utterly destroyed, the bright red lines matching the Black Beasts claws.

Caspar shakes his head, “My back is fine Lin, go help out Mercedes.” He jerks his spiky blue head over at her, standing up. “See? Perfectly fine.”

“Please sit back down,” Linhardt mutters back at him. Caspar sits.

Ashe looks at them. “I’ll go find another healer,” he gets up, leaving his bow and his sheath of arrows behind. “Ideas on where they might be?”

“Bets on El being in the library,” Felix stands up. “I’ll go look too, if we can’t find Marianne or El, can any magic user do?” He asks questioningly.

Mercedes nods. “We can use Annette, Dorothea, and Lysithea as well,” she hesitates, there are other magic users in the monastery. Hubert for one and both Sylvain and Lorenz have been starting to dabble in Reason Magic but because healing is such a delicate procedure, it might be best to get those who are experienced with it. “And someone please go let the archbishop and Professor Byleth know everything.”

“Marianne should probably be in the stables,” Leonie calls out to their backs. “She likes horses, I think.” The bandage work Felix did for her should stem the bleeding but she won’t be able to stand up on it just yet. This won’t do, she’s too used to doing something and sitting on her butt is beginning to bug her.

“Please stay sitting,” Linhardt murmurs one more time, eyeing her. “Caspar has that same look but if we want to make sure you’re fully healed, you need to stay sitting.” That’s the most Leonie’s ever heard him say in one breath without yawning, impressively. He frowns, wiping a bead of sweat away as they continue to focus on Raphael’s deep wounds.

It was almost impressive that Raphael was able to walk all the way back to the monastery while helping to carry Petra without complaint. Linhardt looks away, scanning for the others. “I do hope they get back quickly, I’m going to need a break soon.”

* * *

(19th Day of Horsebow Moon)

Lysithea had a pile of books surrounding her, almost creating a miniature castle. After the encounter with the Death Knight in the mausoleum, she was feeling confident about herself. She had spearheaded the attack on the man who had taken down so many members of the class and she had gotten away with barely a scratch. It certainly made the others look at her differently.

The encounter with Miklan, the Black Beast, made her feel differently. Seeing the large monster brush off her magical attacks that had worked so efficiently against the Death Knight unnerved her. She had tried to rationalize it away because the Black Beast was an unknown factor to her. The Death Knight and his steed were not. Dark Spikes, the spell that she had used against the Death Knight to great effect, was effective against cavalry units. She did not know the weaknesses of the Black Beast and could not strategize effectively. At least, that’s what she told herself.

A movement behind her grabbed her attention. It was Cyril, Lady Rhea’s servant at the monastery. He was muttering to himself as he scanned the bookshelves.

“Cyril?” Lysithea asks, looking at him. “What are you trying to do?” After trying to help him with the logs, she and Cyril struck up an odd sort of friendship. He was of course, a war orphan and casualty of the ongoing war between the Leicester Alliance and Almyra. She was of House Ordelia and a magical prodigy who never did physical labor until she attended the monastery.

“Oh, hi Lysithea,” he greets, absentmindedly. He keeps his eyes on the bookshelves, getting in close to them.

“What are you looking for?” She asks, getting up from her chair. She feels awfully stiff; she must have been in that chair longer than she thought as she stretches out her back.

“Just a couple of books that Professor Byleth asked for,” he responds, looking down at the list. He scrunches up his face, his eyes scanning the short page.

“Um…I thought you couldn’t read.” Lysithea says, awkwardly. She had helped him out last month when he was trying to read a shopping list a Knight of Seiros gave him. He had confessed to her his inability to make out letters and words.

“Still can’t,” Cyril shakes his head. “I was hoping that I could look for the familiar words and see if I could find the books for them.” Lysithea stares, gaping at him. “What?” He asks when he notices.

“There are hundreds of books in the library,” Lysithea says shrilily. “Do you know how long that would take you?” She’s been trying to research the topic of Black Beasts but it’s not something that comes up in her readings. She’s probably read tens of books trying to find more on the topic but nothing shows up. She can’t imagine trying to find books based on one topic. “Can I have a look at that list?” She reaches out her hand for the book list Professor Byleth gave him, which he hands over.

She skims over the list quickly. “Faith Magic and its Uses, Battalions and You, Guide to Garreg Mach Monastery and its History and A History of Heroes Relics. Interesting books to be reading,” Lysithea says mostly to herself. “I have Faith Magic and its Uses at my desk so that’s one down. Is Professor Byleth researching something?”

Cyril shrugs. “They just asked me for them. I haven’t told them I can’t read but if you can find them, that’d be a great help.”

Lysithea nods. “Of course I’ll help,” looking over the list. “These are all pretty diverse topics though, did Professor Byleth happen to mention who the authors were?” She looks at Cyril with hope. Thankfully Tomas keeps the books organized by topic so she can pinpoint the general area the books should be in but having the name of the author of the title would help immensely.

Cyril shakes his head. “No, I think these books came as a recommendation from either Seteth or their own class.”

“Figures,” Lysithea mutters to herself. This year the Blue Lion House had distinguished themselves by their unity and competence. Dimitri was proving to be an excellent house leader and she saw both El and Annette in the library as much as herself.

Walking off by herself, she set the list down, looking at the towering shelf of books. The library is sorted by topic thankfully and not by author, which would make Cyril’s task harder than it already is. She turns to watch Cyril trace the letters of her assignment, murmuring to himself.

Once she finds these books for Cyril, she’ll teach him how to read and write.

* * *

(28th Day of Horsebow Moon, 1180)

Ashe was puttering around in the garden, helping Dedue with the herbs and plants they were growing in the greenhouse. “You really have a green thumb, Dedue.” He compliments eagerly as Dedue hefts a potted plant, moving it to where it would get more sun. Dedue has taken off his uniform shirt, revealing an white undershirt. Despite being Fall, the greenhouse is warmer than expected. Ashe removed his shirt to remove the sweater underneath, sweat dripping down his forehead. He puts the shirt back on but leaves it unbuttoned.

“Thanks,” Dedue accepts the compliment with little aplomb. He’s a quiet man Ashe has realized. Reminds him a bit of Lonato, actually. Kind but stern. Lonato was not an affectionate man but he saw a thief stealing from his library during the night and instead of executing the thief, he taught that thief how to read. Eventually, he took that thief in along with the thief’s siblings.

Ashe looks to Dedue for more instructions, he tends to follow Dedue’s lead when it comes to the greenhouse. In turn, Dedue follows his lead in the kitchen. Dedu has a good set of recipes to fall back on but Ashe is the one who leads the way when it comes to using different ingredients.

Dedue directs Ashe in repotting flowers as they’ve outgrown their pots. It’s delicate work, making sure that he doesn’t damage the roots when rehoming them. He strains when trying to lift a just filled plot with white flower seeds. He takes a break, breathing hard. He thought he grew stronger in the six months he’s been at the Officer’s Academy. He has started using a steel bow in combat and even began lance training with Prince Dimitri, Sylvain, and Ingrid.

Dedue sees him struggling and lifts the filled pot easily with one arm. Ashe watches enviously as Dedue’s muscles ripple and strain carrying the pot easily to its new location. He looks at his thin arms and sighs. He might have to start joining Dedue and El in the plant weeding.

“What do you think of Flayn’s disappearance?” Dedue asks quietly, looking over the rows of flowers that need to be replanted. This will take longer than today, spanning over weeks most likely.

Ashe blinks surprised. He mulls over his thoughts, choosing his words carefully. When Lord Lonato initiated his rebellion, the church had his room raided by the Knights of Seiros several times in the weeks leading up to the confrontation. He accepted Lord Lonato’s death. It does not pain him as much when he thinks of him. He has accepted his role in Lord Lonato’s death. However, he does not want to be put under suspicion again. “I feel bad for Seteth.” He admits, thoughtfully. “The thought of my siblings going missing like that, I don’t -I don’t know what I would do.”

“I feel the same,” Dedue agrees, meeting Ashe’s eyes. “I think if my sister went missing, I would not rest much like him until I found her.” Seteth had the Knights of Seiros turn the monastery upside down the first weekend when it was realized Flayn was missing. They knew that it was likely that Flayn hadn’t left the monastery, which was of little comfort but the monastery was so large that it was difficult to search it properly.

Ashe nods eagerly. “There are so many secret passages in the monastery,” he shifts around, looking for the gardener. He leans in towards Dedue, “I’ve found a couple around here. I don’t know where they lead but there are many abandoned areas in the monastery so it wouldn’t surprise me if they haven’t searched everywhere.” He hasn’t told anyone about his thoughts because he really doesn’t want to come to an upside down room.

Dedue nods. “I understand.” He doesn’t look around like Ashe did but he waits to make sure they are alone. “It is understandable but I offered to help look for Flayn earlier this month. I was turned down.”

“Why?” Ashe looks at him startled. Dedue was amongst the kindest people he met at the monastery. He was helpful and supportive and kind. “Because you’re Duscurian?”

Dedue nods. “I understand. There are still some who believe that Duscur played a role in the Tragedy of Kleiman and people don’t like foreigners here either.”

“Why?” Ashe asks, flabbergasted. “Duscur is a part of Fodlan, it’s not like Dadga or Morfis.” He feels his chest getting tight and it makes him want to wrench his heart out. His hands begin to feel clammy and he’s transported back to that awful night.

Dedue notices this and takes his hands. “Breathe,” he orders. He pulls Ashe in close, wrapping his arms around Ashe’s upper body. “Breathe, Ashe.”

Ashe can hear Dedue’s heartbeat and he uses it as a guide to calm his breathing. He closes his eyes and he feels small again. Lord Lonato was a kind man but he was not an affectionate man. The last time he was hugged by this was by Christophe, before he died.

They stay like this, for a couple of minutes before Ashe feels warmth returning to him. “I’m okay,” he mumbles into Dedue’s stiff chest. Dedue unravels his arms from around Ashe and lets him go. He examines Ashe, making sure that Ashe has truly returned back to normal.

“I’m sorry,” Ashe apologizes. “I made that into about me, I didn’t mean to.” He states flustered. Dedue has been a source of physical comfort since that awful night. He remembers waking up in Dedue’s arms on the march to the monastery and instead of insisting that he be put down, he let Dedue carry him back.

Dedue nods, understanding as always. “It is alright. This is something that I have accepted since I vowed to become Dimitri’s vassal. There were many at Fhirdiad’s court who believed that the king should not allow me to take the oaths.” Ashe hadn’t been to the palace in Fhirdiad. Lord Lonato had taken him to the city but he never took him to court. Lord Lonato used to say that he was too pure to experience court politics.

“It doesn’t make it right,” Ashe mutters, he won’t let that swell of emotion overtake him again but it doesn’t strike him as right when Dedue accepts mistreatment.

“It is what it is,” Dedue states simply. “Come, we must finish replotting the plants.” They look over the sea of flowers that need repotting. Someone needs to tell Professor Byleth to stop growing so many flowers. Although, the students do enjoy them.

* * *

(28th Day of Horsebow Moon, 1180)

Hilda yawned, exhausted. It was far too early to be singing and Professor Manuela hadn’t even showed up yet! But that wasn’t a rare occurrence. Dorothea and El usually gave the professor until the 9th hour to arrive at their practices. They had ramped up the practices because in three months, they would be performing at the ball during the Ethereal Moon.

Dorothea and El proved to be slavemasters, going through the songs three times before giving them a break. Their argument, they reasoned, was as they approached the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion next month, they would lose a lot of practice time. Hilda agreed with them but didn’t like it. This was all a lot of work but she figured that it was better than Seteth watching her every move.

By the time it was the 11th hour, they began to worry. Professor Manuela liked her drink but she took their practices very seriously. Something about showing Professor Hanneman up. They ended their practices at the 11th hour, allowing them time to eat their mid-meal before continuing on with their day.

“Should we go check on Professor Manuela?” Mercedes asks, concerned. She raises a hand to her chin. “It’s not like her to miss our practices.” Mercedes was the one who carefully watched the entrance to the classroom, keeping her eyes out for her messy Professor.

Dorothea has the same concerned look as well. “We have Faith magic practice with her later today.” She looks to Annette and El, “Maybe we could go check on her before the practice starts?” She suggested.

El’s eyes flicker to Annette and smiles. “I don’t mind. I think that would be a good idea.” The majority of the girls at the Academy favor magic.

“We shall come too,” Petra cheers, looking at Hilda, who really wasn’t planning on it. “I wish to see if she is doing well.” Hilda resists the desire to scowl. It wasn’t really in her plans to look after an inebriated professor today. She has plans, things to do.

They march over to the hospital wing where Professor Manuela’s quarters were connected, Dorothea leads the way. At the door, Dorothea hesitates, deciding on whether to knock loudly or quietly. If Professor Manuela really is hungover, then she would probably appreciate it being a quiet knock.

“Manuela?” Dorothea calls out, her voice rings loud and clear. “Are you alright?” When there is no response, Dorothea looks to the others nervously, chewing on her lip. El stares and shrugs, pushing the door open.

Professor Manuela isn’t hungover but looking over some parchment. When light enters the room by the way of the door, she looks up, slamming a book over the piece of paper.

“Girls!” Her voice perks and strains. “What are you doing here?” Her eyes rove over the six of them, all of them staring expectantly at her as they cram in the small doorway.

“You missed practice,” El states simply. “We just wanted to make sure that you were ok.” Her eyes flicker over the papers. “Is everything alright?”

Professor Manuela nods furiously. “Yes, everything is fine.” She looks out her window. “I hadn’t realized that it was already mid-day. I’m so sorry for missing practice.” Hilda meets El’s eyes. The sun was bright and streaming through the window. What had preoccupied Professor Manuela’s thoughts so much? It certainly wasn’t alcohol.

“It’s alright,” Dorothea responds. “Practice went well enough,” her eyes caught Professor Manuela’s. “If everything is ok, then I suppose we’ll see you for Faith practice?” The songstress is calm even in the face of Professor Manuela’s uneasiness.

Professor Manuela nods wildly, her short hair bobbing along with other parts of her body. “Yes, I will be. Thank you girls for checking up on me. It means a lot,” she smiles widely as they shuffled out of the room.

El makes sure the door is closed securely behind her before she whirls on the other girls. “Something’s up.” She states. “It’s not just me, right?” She looks at all the girls. Even for Professor Manuela, that was weird.

Dorothea nods, “I have never seen Manuela act that way in all the years I’ve known her. Not even when things were going haywire in backstage. She always played it cool and professional.” She shakes her head. “Something’s up.” She looks at the door to the hospital wing. “She’s not going to tell us what’s wrong if we’re all in a group.” She chews on her thumb.

“Perhaps it would be best to speak to her private? In private?” Petra amends. The Brigid princess looks thoughtful. “When hunting, it is best to let the prey think that you are alone when hunting in a group.”

“We’re not actually hunting though,” Annette fiddles her thumbs. “I mean, I doubt Professor Manuela would keep it a secret if it was really serious, right?” The shorter pigtail girl looks nervous, looking amongst the other girls.

“We’re hunting for answers,” Mercedes responds quietly. “Should we discuss this over lunch?” She suggests lightly. “I think practice made me hungry.” The older girl keeps an eye on Professor Manuela’s door, making sure that she isn’t listening in.

“That’s a good idea,” El agrees, she nudges Dorothea with her hip, smiling. “We can go check on her after lunch before the lesson,” she suggests. “Maybe it should just be you.” Dorothea still looks concerned, wrinkling her pert nose.

Eventually, Dorothea nods. “Let’s go get lunch, then.” She flashes a reluctant but still brilliant smile. “We did work you hard during practice,” she grins brightly.

* * *

(28th Day of Horsebow Moon, 1180)

So when Sylvain sees a group of very pretty girls, he can’t help but let his eyes follow. Even when he’s gotten many warnings from staying away from them, from multiple people.

Dimitri drums a spoon against Sylvain’s bowl, they’re sharing a bowl of Cheesy Verona Stew. “Sylvain, are you listening?” Dimitri requested that Sylvain share a meal with him and who was Sylvain to deny his future king? He jokes, he knows that Dimitri is worried about him especially after Miklan.

“I’m listening,” Sylvain flashes an easy grin, his eyes still tracking the group of girls. El’s purple eyes glare at him when she notices him staring too long. He refocuses his attention back to his food and Dimitri.

Dimitri tracks his eyes to El and raises a hand, waiving. El smiles back at him fondly. Despite the fact they have been caught sleeping over twice, they’re still oddly innocent, Sylvain notes. Three times, if you consider when they were thirteen.

“I’m fine, Dimitri.” Sylvain brings Dimitri’s attention back to him. “Really, Miklan got what was coming to him,” he states, briskly. “My father had him disowned years ago and he wasn’t wrong to.” He’s tried to keep from talking poorly about Miklan for most of his life. It’s not hard. Everyone knows how close Glenn and Felix are and they just automatically think that all brotherly relationships are naturally like that.

Because who’s to say that he wouldn’t have been like him if he was in Miklan’s situation? Angry and resentful.

“It’s still a lot to think about, though.” Dimitri reasons, fishing his spoon through the stew. They’ve consumed most of the cheese and all of that’s really in there are the chunks of verona. “What happened to Miklan that night…”

“Shhh,” Sylvain raises a finger to his lips, a false smile on them. “Remember what the archbishop said, we’re not supposed to talk about it.” He really doesn’t want to talk about that night. It wasn’t as if he missed Miklan, quite the opposite really. Now he didn’t have to worry about Miklan, have him hanging over his shoulder. Miklan was dead and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

“Mind if we join you?” Dorothea asks brightly, walking up them with a tray in her hands. El watches bemused, carrying another. They’ve both opted for a light meal of Vegetable Stir Fry. Dimitri slides over automatically, giving enough space for El without another look at Sylvain. “Hope we’re not interrupting.”

“Nah, we’re done here.” Sylvain states confidently. He really wants to be done talking about Miklan. So many people have asked how he’s doing the Lance of Ruin was missing, when it was learned that Miklan was the one who stole it, and then after Miklan died after turning into a Black Beast. He’s frankly over it.

Dimitri glances at Sylvain before refocusing his attention on El, who is still staring at Sylvain curiously. “So what brings you two lovely ladies together?” He’s really glad El is on the other side of the table so she can’t elbow him. She’s got pointy elbows, that one.

“Music practice with the other girls,” El gestures towards the four they came into the dining hall with- Annette, Petra, Hilda, and Mercedes. A lovely group of girls if he didn’t say so himself.

“Music practice?” Dimitri asks bemused. El delicately spins a forkful of vegetables before chewing her food.

“Professor Manuela asked us to,” Dorothea supplies. “Every year it seems, she has a group of students put on a musical performance. It’s part of the whole thing,” she waves her hand, “Along with the White Heron Cup.” There’s a lovely woman, if there ever was one. Professor Manuela is beautiful. Of course, he’d never approach her because she is a professor and apparently drinks a lot. So that’d never work. But it’s a nice thought.

“You sing?” Dimitri asks El quietly, nudging her a little bit with his elbow.

“Just a little,” El responds. “Dorothea and Professor Manuela have been teaching us a lot,” she emphasizes. “But I think we’ll be good.” El takes another bite of her stir fry, Dorothea doing the same.

“Could I watch a practice?” Dimitri inquires, curiously, staring at El.

El and Dorothea share a glance. “I think Professor Manuela wants it to be a surprise.” Dorothea supplies, “Everyone has put in a lot of work into it and I think we all want everyone to see it at the ball.”

“What’s your plan for Professor Manuela?” El asks quickly before Sylvain can make an unsavory comment.

Sylvain starts, “Plan?” He glances quickly between the two.

Dorothea stares El down, a silent conversation going between the two. “We can trust them,” El says confidently. “They won’t say anything to anyone.”

“Manuela missed our practice,” Dorothea explains. “She never misses our practice, something’s up with her and we just want to make sure everything is ok,” she smiles weakly. This isn’t like Dorothea, the confident songstress who turns him down at every turn. The one who pinned him with a single look, who knew what he was about from day one.

“I’m sure everything is fine,” El soothes, pushing back a lock of hair behind her ear. “She probably had a bad date or something,” El scoops up more food. “Do you want to ask her before our Faith magic seminar or afterwards?”

“I think I’m going to ask her before,” Dorothea states, calmly. “Just something about it really bugged me and I want to see what she says. I won’t be able to focus during the seminar if I don’t figure out what happened.”

* * *

(31st Day of Horsebow Moon, 1180)

“Are we really doing this?” Hilda pouts, staring down the dark and damp stairs in Jeritza’s room. Dorothea had seen Manuela examining a mask but hadn’t thought much of it until she went missing. Most of their class thought she was sleeping over another hangover but Dorothea remembered the Saturday before and how Manuela’s behavior unnerved her. She rounded up the music girls and picked up a couple of stragglers who were worried for Manuela or were around the girls when she found them.

Professor Byleth nods determined, and El backs them up. “Dimitri and Professor Hanneman took Professor Manuela to the hospital wing,” El reminds her. “The Knights of Seiros are taking care of the Black Beasts in the area. There are no others than Professor Byleth and we should be supporting them.” El looks calm but to Dorothea, there’s no doubt in her mind that Professor Jeritza is responsible for Manuela’s injuries and Flayn’s disappearance. The man always unnerved her anyway, talking of finding a worthy opponent and always wearing that creepy mask of his. It didn’t take much to suspect him of anything.

“But we don’t have any weapons,” Linhardt responds tiredly. “It would be irresponsible if we went down there weaponless.” Only Professor Byleth carries a weapon, the Sword of the Creator, which never leaves their side.

Ashe who was fiddling with a trunk pops it open triumphantly. Dedue looks impressed. Professor Jeritza, the combat professor, had his weapons locked in his private trunk. “Problem solved,” he says with a big grin. There are several axes, lances, swords, gauntlets, and bows in there. Any concerns about weapons was negligible.

They divide up the weapons between everyone in the room, making sure that everyone has at least a secondary weapon they can use just in case, except for El as Professor Jeritza only has 3 usable axes in his room. “It’s fine,” El brushes off. “I can use a sword,” she states, determined, taking an Iron Sword. “Now let’s go down there.”

There aren’t any torches down the stairs to light their way so Dedue hacks Jeritza’s chair to make torches and they use his bedsheets and find weapon maintenance oil to soak the cloth in. “We will replace these if we need to,” Dedue responds. “However, based on Professor Byleth’s findings, I doubt we will.”

Leonie looks impressed. Summoning up small Fire spells, they light the cloth for their descent. El and Mercedes are the only ones who can use a Fire spell so they take their igniting the cloth on the torch and hand them to the Lance and Sword users who have at least one of their hands free. When Mercedes goes to light one up for Sylvain, he already has his lit up.

“When did you learn that?” El asks curiously. Of the six of them, she was the only one who showed an inkling for magic; Felix disdained anything associated with his father and Dimitri, Dedue, and Ingrid were almost hopeless or too focused on the task in front of them.

Sylvain shrugs, lighting up a small Fire spell. “It’s not enough to use in battle but it can set things on fire pretty well.” He responds with a grin. Everything prepared, they head down with Professor Byleth leading the way.

It’s dark, damp, and creepy. There’s very little light down there except for their torches, which they keep intersected between the group. There’s not much room going down and so they keep single-file as they descend into the depths. Sylvain covers the back with Dedue by his side and they keep going down.

After five minutes, they eventually reach a basement of some sort. There are more lights down there but there’s an eeriness in the area. It stinks of death and destruction. There are two paths they can go down. Because of Professor Byleth’s direction, they’re more comfortable splitting into groups but there is definite hesitation in splitting up. Professor Jeritza was their combat instructor and a very strong fighter in general.

In terms of battle prowess, Professor Byleth may have been the only one to rival him.

They split up. Professor Byleth takes Mercedes, Caspar, Petra, Lorenz, Leonie, and Dorothea with them. The other group has Ashe, Dedue, El, Annette, Linhardt, Sylvain, and Hilda.

“Stay together, stay sharp and watch each other’s backs.” Professor Byleth orders, looking down the pathway they’re going. Everyone nods, keeping their eyes trained around corners and shadows.

The pathway Dorothea and her group takes leads to an open chamber. Professor Byleth orders them to stay close to the walls and to make sure that if there are any enemies, they cannot see them. Professor Byleth continues to lead the way and she makes them stop after walking for a few moments. They extinguished the torches and left them near the entrance. They can’t be ambushed because of being seen by the lights.

They raise their hand and the others flatten themselves against the wall. Petra, because she has the best eyesight of the group, sees a couple of people armed and ready. She swaps her Sword for a Bow and aims for the mark. She sees an Armored Knight and aims for the neck, knowing that it is one of the weak spots of the armor. Also if her aim is true, it will kill whoever is underneath there almost automatically.

Once their enemy crumples, the others are on the defensive. Professor Byleth leads the first strike, striking down a mage. They quickly take down their enemies in that open room, Dorothea responds with a dodged arrow with a quick Saggitae thrown back in response. It hits the archer but also knocks down a Lancer as well, making it easy for Petra to quickly stab them with her sword.

When Dorothea looked around, their enemies were quickly felled. Leonie finishes stabbing another enemy, jabbing them through the heart. When they hear low-pitch laughing they freeze. Dorothea blinks rapidly, fear taking in her heart.

“The Death Knight…” Lorenz murmurs, freezing, terror in his eyes. “Should we regroup with the others?” He asks Professor Byleth, quickly. “We cannot take him without everyone.”

Professor Byleth shakes their head. “No, I do not want to retreat at this time. It leads the chance for them to gather more men and if there is a chance that they don’t retreat, we leave the possibility of them being ambushed. Our enemies know we are here, we cannot go back.”

Lorenz pales as they look down the hallway. “Very well,” he puffs himself up. “We must be careful then,” he looks around with a grim smile. “Please allow me to lead the way, Professor,” he requests. He steadies his grip on his lance as they continue down the hallway, deeper into the basement to their enemies who are surely aware of their presence now.

They enter a hallway with many doors on the side and broken walls. Professor Byleth signals for them to be vigilant but that doesn’t stop Leonie being struck with an arrow, hitting her shoulder. She cries out and more enemies come out. Lorenz strikes down the archer that hit Leonie with a javelin strike, knocking the enemy down with a blow to the stomach.

There are two more enemies on the other crumbling wall that only use magic and Petra cuts in, dodging their spells quickly and slashes them down with two quick blows of her Sword.

Mercedes goes quickly to patch up Leonie’s shoulder with a Heal spell, removing the arrow with Caspar’s knife. Leonie winces as the shaft of the arrow exits her body. She watches the skin knit back together, “It’s going to be a little sore. I wish I could do a better job but…”

Leonie nods, “Thanks Mercedes.” She glances at her shoulder as Mercedes quickly bandages it up with a few wraps from her pack. “It’s a good thing I’m ambidextrous,” she gives a few swings of the lance with her other arm.

“You’re ambidextrous?” Lorenz asks, curiously, forgetting where they were for a short moment.

Leonie nods, “I taught myself. It’s a lot easier doing things if you can use either hand.”

“Petra?” Dorothea asks as she realizes that she’s not with the group. “Petra, what are you doing?” Petra is still in the other room, staring at a strange tile on the floor, ignoring the fallen bodies around them.

“This tile… it is strange,” she murmurs, entranced with it.

“Petra, let’s go back with the others,” Dorothea asks, reaching out for her. At that same moment, Petra touches the tile and they are both transported with a quick flash.

“Dorothea?” El asks, staring as she finds Petra and Dorothea on the floor; Petra on her back while Dorothea props herself up over Petra, her hands on both sides of her. Her long hair hangs over the side, almost brushing Petra. “How?”

Dorothea pushes herself off Petra, staring at El. “I touched the tile,” Petra answers, “ I did not expect that I would come here.” Petra blinks quickly, trying to absorb the surroundings. “Where are we?”

“You’re with us now,” El explains, leading them out of the narrow hallway. She shows them Linhardt, Annette, Sylvain, and Hilda. “I think those tiles can transport you to other places with a tile similar,” she points out. The tile that they came from is eerily similar to the one Petra used. “We lost Dedue and Ashe the same way,” she informs them. “They might be with your group now then,” smiling grimly.

“There have been a lot of tiles on this side,” El describes. “We’ve been avoiding them for the most part. We had to use one to get into this room,” she shows them, where they came from. “But since Dedue and Ashe disappeared, we’ve been careful not to touch anymore.”

Another flash lights the room, and the others reach for their weapons when Dedue and Ashe stumble out. “Ashe!” Annette cries out, reaching for them. She’s been shaking this entire time; it’s been the stuff of nightmares for her.

“Oh hello,” Ashe says cheerily to Dorothea and Petra. “Look what we found.” He pulls out a sword, jagged like lightning. Dedue shows another small ring that he keeps in his pockets. “We found them in a couple of chests, they looked important.”

“Not that I condone stealing,” Linhardt remarks, “But I am glad to see that you are well.” Ashe hands the sword to El who examines it carefully with Annette.

Dedue nods, “It seems that if you go back to the tile, it will teleport you to the same tile you came from. They are connected.” The older man looks a little rough for wear so Dorothea patches him up quickly. The stern Duscur man gives her a quick smile as they prepare to continue.

“There’s no way out of here,” Sylvain comes back with Hilda in tow. “Other than those weird tiles. Looks like we’ll have to test them out.” Hilda nods in agreement, any of her usual laziness gone with the situation.

“Be careful,” Dorothea orders. “The Death Knight is here, we heard him earlier.” She warns them, just in case they aren’t aware of his presence.

“Oh shit.” Sylvain curses automatically, the others turn pale, feeling the same sentiment. Even though it was only two months since they faced the Death Knight, the way that man dispatched their classmates and allies so quickly struck fear in them.

“Pair up,” El orders stiffly. “No one leave each other. We can only fit two people per tile, correct? We stick together, we test out the tiles. If it doesn’t seem like that tile goes anywhere, you come straight back. We will be here if it does not work.” She blinks quickly, organizing her thoughts. “Dedue, I don’t mean to use you as a shield but you are the most durable out of all of us. Is that ok with you?”

“It is alright,” Dedue affirms. “We must do what we can to survive.”

El nods encouragingly. “I can be the other shield but Annette, Dorothea, Linhardt, stay here with Sylvain and Ashe, we have to be careful with every step we take. I’ll pair up with Hilda, Dedue stick with Petra ok?” She looks at every single one of them. “Let’s move out.”

* * *

(31st Day of Horsebow Moon, 1180)

When Dorothea and Petra disappear, it sets their group into a panic. It is only with Professor Byleth’s stern voice and their commands do they regroup. However, it is impossible to feel that comfortable as the walls seem smaller with their group. Professor Byleth orders them to stay together, no more going out alone.

Lorenz cannot stop his shaking, behavior as his father would call it, unbefitting of a noble of his status. But he cannot forget the Death Knight, of how quickly he defeated Lorenz and how Lorenz could feel the very scythe slashing through his body every night. It is pitiful for a Glouchester to behave in this manner but his body shakes out of his control.

Leonie, who notices his shaking, touches him briefly on the shoulder. “We’ll be ok,” she murmurs undertone to him, without alerting the others. “We’re stronger than before.”

“It does not worry you that we don’t have Lysithea with us?” Lorenz points out mirthlessly. He speaks of the youngest of their group who is also the most talented and strongest among them. She was the one who weakened the Death Knight enough that allowed them to gain an opening against him.

Leonie shrugs. “It is what it is, we can make do without her,” she argues. “Sometimes, we can’t prepare for what is in front of us but we still have to take them on, those challenges.”

A flash of light erupts and both Hilda and El stumble out from a tile, meeting their eyes. “Oh thank goddess,” Hilda greets, quickly. “This one leads to the others.”

El nods, “Can you go back and let the others know to take this tile?” She asks, “I’ll go speak with the professor.” She walks up to Professor Byleth, informing them quickly of their experiences. They have not run into the Death Knight yet.

“Are Petra and Dorothea with you?” Lorenz asks before Hilda can teleport away with those strange tiles. Hilda turns and nods as the tile takes her away.

“They’re with us,” El confirmed. “The tile they took brought them straight to us. How is everything? Does anyone need healing?” At the sound of El’s voice, the others approach around the corner. There were enemies in this open room but they did quick and decisive work. Professor Byleth in particular had no sympathy for their enemies, proving their Ashen Demon moniker was not misapplied.

More quick flashes as the others reappear. They come back in the group, no one looking worse for wear. “Any sign of the Death Knight?” Sylvain asks, coming with Annette, Ashe, Linhardt, and Dorothea. Dedue, Hilda and Petra are quick to follow.

Professor Byleth shakes their head and they look past the large doors that lead to a large room.

“They’re probably back there, aren’t they,” Sylvain sighs reluctantly. No one answers. “Of course they are.” Sylvain grips his lance tightly, standing in front of the others. He watches the doors carefully.

“I can get that door open,” Ashe pipes up quickly. The small grey-haired archer has proven himself useful when it comes to opening doors and locks in the past six months.

“What happens when that door opens?” Dedue asks the smaller teen. “What happens then?” Despite his talent and quickness, if Ashe was caught at the wrong time, it could prove fatal for him.

“We could rush them,” Leonie suggests, putting a hand to her chin. She was tired of hiding and hedging, she wasn’t one who liked to wait, even though she was a patient hunter.

They didn’t have to wait, however, as the door pushed open and a flurry of arrows and magic came out. Dedue pushes Ashe and Linhardt behind him, letting the bulk of the arrows and magic bounce off his armor. The others dive behind the pillar as Dorothea and El throw a Thunder and Fire spell back in retaliation respectfully.

The Death Knight comes out on his black steed, laughing menacingly. He swings the same scythe that sliced through so many of their classmates and Lorenz freezes in position. He can’t catch his breath and his limbs refuse to move as he knows that he should do something. Leonie hauls him out the way, tossing him against a pillar as she fires off another arrow.

Dedue, although weakened by the arrows and magic striking him, launches his handaxe at the Death Knight, which the Death Knight deflects easily. However, that does distract him enough for Caspar and Hilda to launch themselves at the Death Knight from behind, startling the Death Knight.

They don’t break the Death Knight’s armor but it’s enough to knock him down from his horse. Dorothea throws in a Thoron for good measure. Both Ashe and Leonie fire an arrow towards his shoulders and Ashe’s aim strikes true, hitting the weak spot, making him bleed. A first for the Three Houses. There are still enemies in the area, not just the Death Knight and the other students focus their attention on there. They are always aware of where the Death Knight is.

He snarls and stomps his way towards the students as they quickly retreat behind the pillars. Thankfully, due to his mask, he does not seem to have good peripheral vision.

Petra aims another arrow towards his ankle, making him limp as while it does not pierce, it makes him bleed. El lights up another Fire spell, before going in for a direct attack, dodging his scythe and slashing towards his hip with her sword. She quickly darts away behind another pillar. She won’t be knocked out, not this time.

He steps menacingly towards Lorenz and Mercedes, who Lorenz puts behind him, he grips his lances in front of him. He won’t freeze, not again.“You…” he growls, staring at Mercedes, who stands firm. She pulls a Bolganone spell ready to fire if he gets too close.

“It’s me you’ll face,” Professor Byleth declares, distracting the Death Knight. They hold the Sword of the Creator at the ready in case the Death Knight chooses to charge.

And he does. He heaves his scythe at the Professor who dodges and slams the Sword of the Creator at the Death Knight. The Sword of the Creator catches the Death Knight on the side who does not flinch and continues closer, the Professor dodges another blow and dances away. But the Death Knight kicks out a black boot and while he does not connect, the Professor stumbles and lashes out another strike, this time not hitting. To dodge another strike from the scythe, Professor Byleth rolls to the ground, kicking out a leg.

The Death Knight backs up, wielding his scythe menacingly. They reset. Professor Byleth gets back up and holds the Sword of the Creator in front of them. El throws herself into the fray, wielding an Axe that she borrowed from Hilda.

She stares down the Death Knight, as she wields it ready from her hip. She keeps an eye on the scythe ready to dodge in a moment. She leans forward, most of her weight on the balls of her feet. El waits for the Professor to move first. She has no qualms about this, she isn’t here to be the hero but to support her teacher instead.

It’s the Death Knight who moves first, aiming for El. It’s clear that this is a confrontation that he means between himself and Professor Byleth and he will remove any obstacles that get in the way.

This lets Ashe get a shot off aiming for his back as El dances away from the blow. She pulls up a small Bolganone that the Death Knight has to throw himself in order to dodge. They’re in too close quarters to completely dodge and his red-black ragged cape catches on fire a bit. Professor Byleth throws down the Sword of the Creator and then a small wrinkled old man appears.

“Stop.” He orders as the Death Knight backs up. “You cannot win this.”

“Don’t interfere,” the Death Knight grumbles as he gets back. “I’m having too much fun.” Fun? Fun is not what Lorenz would describe the situation as, fearing for his life since the moment since they step down into the depths.

“It is time to go,” the old man commands. His gaze meets El and he smirks. “We’ve got what we needed.” The Death Knight scowls and then they’re warped away. It’s over.

* * *

(1st Day of Wyvern Moon, 1180)

Clean up goes easily. There are no fallen bodies of their enemies left in the basement. Flayn is found unconscious with another girl with bright red hair and they’re both taken up quickly back to the surface.

Dedue was wounded, protecting Ashe, Annette, and Mercedes so Sylvain and Lorenz brace him on their shoulders and help bring him back up as well. Caspar tries to help by lifting his legs, but it’s more of a hindrance than a help. They don’t risk healing him down there because of the chance that their enemies may come back.

All in all, it’s a win- win, Caspar figures. They made the Death Knight bleed and run. No one died and no one got seriously hurt, Dedue was up and running, well walking around the next day. Not like the first time they encountered the Death Knight. However, Hubert and Ferdinand don’t agree with his sentiments when he explains what went down in that basement with gestures and slightly outlandish storytelling.

Professor Byleth was taken in to meet with the Archbishop and Seteth separately and the rest of the students are free to go after getting a quick check up. Poor Marianne was left on healing duty for Professor Manuela when it was realized that Mercedes, Linhardt, and El went down into the tombs.

Professor Jeritza cannot be found anywhere in the monastery and it’s surmised that Professor Jeritza is either the Death Knight or in league with the Death Knight. It’s the Battle of the Eagle and Lion this month and they need to get ready for it. While Professor Manuela is injured, Professor Byleth and Hanneman adapt, splitting the Black Eagle House between their two classes for the week. The red-haired girl found in the basement is discovered to be Monica von Ochs, a student who attended the monastery last year as part of the Black Eagles House.

House Ochs is on the western part of Fodlan, near Fodlan’s Fangs, or so Linhardt tells him. Their territory borders Linhardt’s house, House Hvering but Linhardt isn’t familiar with Monica at all and she doesn’t seem to care for Linhardt either.

Who she is interested in is El, the healer of the Blue Lions House. Monica rejoins the Black Eagle House and she joins Linhardt, Caspar, and Mercedes in the Blue Lions class with Professor Byleth, which Caspar is beyond stoked about. Especially after watching Professor Byleth take on the Death Knight with no fear and giving the Death Knight inch for inch.

She sidles up to El on the bench before class starts, startling the girl. “Hello…” she greets hesitantly, staring at Monica with a bit of shock.

“Hi, I’m Monica,” she gushes, reaching for El’s hand. “You’re El von Arundel, right?” El schooches away from Monica a little bit before nodding.

“Yes, I am.” El eyes her warily. “Can I help you?” El’s light purple eyes examine this strange girl. Her bright red hair gleams in the sunlight.

“Not really, just wanted to get to know the girl who stood down the Death Knight,” she beams. “I was held captive by him for a year so it’s interesting to see someone who isn’t afraid of him.” Monica watches her curiously.

“I was not alone,” El responds softly. “I had Professor Byleth and the others with me, with them I know not to be afraid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter....This was the one where I got stuck for three months and left it alone. Can you tell?
> 
> It was kind of interesting, this is one of the reasons why I had them do the music group so I could get them together to go investigate Manuela. Also because I thought it'd be fun. 
> 
> Which one of you put me on TVtropes? And didn't tell me? Someone had to comment on here letting me know and I am slightly appalled. IF you want really good fics with world building, go check out my bookmarks because there are some great ones there. 
> 
> Monica enters the scene and she's still as weird as she was in-game. El just thinks she's a little creepy and overeager but it is what it is.


	13. Part II Chapter VIII

* * *

(2nd Day of Wyvern Moon, 1180)

When El wakes up, she's placed firmly on Dimitri's chest. Dimitri had panicked when they went back to Jeritza's room and they were nowhere to be found. He might have broken a chair. Professor Hanneman wouldn't let them go down the basement without reinforcements and by the time the rest of students were rounded up, sans Marianne, who was focused on keeping Professor Manuela stable, her group had come back from the basement. She had been sleeping in his bed for the past two days, it seemed that he didn't want to let her go.

After Professor Byleth debriefed the archbishop of the events that happened in the basement- Seteth was watching over Flayn, who was still resting in the hospital wing- Dimitri went immediately to find El, who had changed and showered. All of them were covered in the grime and muck of the basement so it was good to be clean.

"You okay?" El asks quietly, resting her chin on Dimitri's firm chest. He rests a hand in the small of El's back.

He nods, "I wish you waited for us." He says quietly. The students that went down into the basement were talented and skilled but if Professor Byleth had not been there, they could have been in serious trouble. 

"We couldn't wait," El answers back, tracing figures on his shirt. "Jeritza, the Death Knight, they could have moved Flayn once he realized that we were onto them." If Jeritza had escaped from the monastery with Flayn in tow, Seteth would have a conniption. 

Dimitri sighs, understanding. Once Seteth saw that Flayn was safe, he promptly fell asleep for almost half a day. "What you saw down there worries me." He remarks, running his hand through her hair. "This Solon person, who was he?"

"Not sure," El hums. Solon was a wrinkly old man who had a gift for Dark Magic. Professor Byleth gave as many details as possible to the archbishop about the strange people in the basement but Lady Rhea gave little comment on it. "But he was someone the Death Knight listened to. That means he's important." The Death Knight had seemed to consider his clashes with Professor Byleth as games, which didn't mean well for the man's psyche, because she knew for certain that Professor Byleth treated them as life or death. 

Did that mean Jeritza had captured Flayn on that man's orders? Jeritza was not a friendly man; his only concern was a good spar. She and Ingrid had done their best to keep Felix busy, away from Jeritza. Felix liked a good spar but they were worried that if Felix sparred with Jeritza, it would leave him bloodied. Still, it was hard to see him interested by someone like Flayn. Flayn's only concern was fish and learning more about Fodlan. 

"I wish we had more answers," Dimitri says softly.

* * *

(3rd Day of Wyvern Moon, 1180)

When Annette gets picked up and held close, she almost pulls a Wind spell and fires it. The person pulls her close and she gets the scent of oak wood and sweat. “Dad?” She asks quietly. Her father drops her and backs away, a panicked look on his face.

“My apologies,” Gilbert stammers and backs away. “I did not mean to- I heard what happened and I was worried-” He looks haggard and tired. He had been sent to the Western Church to aid Seteth in the purges of disloyal church members. He was not expected for a couple of days as Seteth informed her. 

“About me,” Annette finishes. “You were worried about me. You still care?” Gilbert has avoided her the six months she’s been here as she lamented to Mercedes. She would never get the answers that she was looking for from him and that hurt. 

“Of course I do,” Gilbert blurts out. “I will always care about you and your mother,” he explains desperately. “I am sorry, I did not mean to confuse you,” he backs away even further. 

“No,” Annette demands, taking steps towards him. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to give me hope and just walk away,” she takes a deep breath, calming herself. “Can we please just talk? About everything?” She pleads. “You don’t need to tell me why you left, I just want to talk to you,” she bites her lip and tries to hold back her tears. If she lets Gilbert walk away, she gets the feeling she will never get the answers she is looking for.

This is a first step for her and her father and she won’t let this chance get away from her.

“Very well.” Gilbert sighs and wrenches his hands into his robes. “I have only heard rumors of what happened, I would appreciate it if you told me what happened leading up to the confrontation.”

Annette smiles lightly. “Are you sure? It’s a pretty long story.” She would have to go back to the day where Professor Manuela was acting strangely and she didn’t want to bore him.

“Please, tell me everything.” Gilbert directs her to a bench and they sit, talking for hours about the weekend leading up to the mission and the mission itself.

* * *

(5th Day of Wyvern Moon, 1180)

So Leonie knows that Seteth probably feels guilty about losing Flayn, which is understandable. The man is so overprotective of his sister, the fact she went missing for a month and he didn’t destroy half the monastery during that time is impressive. But he doesn’t need Shamir to play bodyguard and organize an entire fishing tournament just for her.

Flayn likes fish but this is a bit much. He even gets Professor Byleth to participate and they end up winning the tournament of course. Nothing less than Jeralt’s child. She sticks to the outside of the dining hall, watching the whole debacle go down. Maybe Flayn will let her cook the ones who didn’t make the test. 

“Leonie,” Lorenz addresses her as she leans against one of the walls. “May I speak with you?” He stands stiff as ever. She and Lorenz have butted heads; she didn’t appreciate the fact that he didn’t treat her as a person because she wasn’t a noble and he didn’t seem to think of her as a woman either. Honestly, she wasn’t very fond of him as a person.

But he did help her out when she was hurt and she still had his handkerchief, which reminded her- she needed to return that to him. 

“Yeah?” Leonie responds, turning to him. He keeps his hands behind himself and stands a respectful distance away. Probably the calculated amount of that a noble needed to be respected. She looks at him boredly.

“I wanted to thank you,” Lorenz states in carefully paced words. “For your help against the Death Knight and in that place.” His cheeks flush slightly red and he looks almost young and less severe. “Thank you for helping me.”

Leonie stares, silent. He jerks a nod and walks away, or at least tries to because Leonie jerks on his sleeve and pulls him back, almost a little too hard as he goes flying and pins her against the wall. 

“My apologies!” Lorenz backs away, almost like he’s been burned. This was another thing that bugged Leonie, he took responsibility for things he didn’t have to because he was a _noble_. Dumb moron, she was the one who pulled him.

“Why- why are you thanking me?” Leonie asks, shocked. “Why would you need to thank me? I didn’t do anything special.” She pulled him out of the way and out of danger. Anyone would have done that. Anyone should have done that.

“You comforted me down there,” Lorenz flushes even more red. “I froze and you kept me alive. You did so many things for me and I have nothing to offer you.” He shakes his head. On further examination, Lorenz does look a little less polished than usual. When they were in the basement, she could see Lorenz shaking the entire time. So she offered a word of comfort, like she would to anyone in that situation.

But the Death Knight was a terrifying prospect, especially since Leonie could feel that the Death Knight could cut you down without a second thought and enjoy it. It was only her experience as a hunter and in her village where there were moments of life or death that stopped her from freezing in the moment.

Leonie shakes her head. “That kind of stuff, it doesn’t need to be thanked or rewarded, though.” It was just normal stuff, she’d do the same for anyone, commoner or noble. Why was Lorenz acting so weirdly? Or more weird than normal?

“Everything has a price!” Lorenz yells before slamming his hand against his mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell,” he stammers. “I should go, I need to compose myself.” He’s breathing hard but he’s not shaking like he was in the basement. This is probably the most un-composed she’s ever seen Lorenz be.

Not wanting to let him go without a final word, Leonie grabs his wrist before he can flee. “Not everything has a price, not for friends.” She lets him go as he runs away.

* * *

(5th Day of Wyvern Moon, 1180)

Sylvain yawns, not his first one of the day. “Why are we up so early?” He asked groggily. Dimitri has them starting early morning practices so they can work on their team coordination for the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion, something that’s already been explained to Sylvain. Twice.

“Because,” El responds primly, with a wipe of her sweat. And she’s always going to back Dimitri up, “It’s good to get practice in together and this is the only time the training hall wasn’t booked.”

After the events of last month’s mission, everyone has taken it upon themselves to focus on a secondary strength of theirs. For example, Annette has joined Dedue and El in their axe training. She’s been focusing on her Reason and Faith magic since they started the academy but she almost ran out of magical energy for her spells when they were in the basement and having an Axe that she can wield would have been nice, at least for her nerves. 

“We need to be ready for the end of the month, Sylvain.” Ingrid states in agreement. She and Felix had been reviewing some sword techniques and thus were out of the loop of the whole Manuela mystery. Although everyone took their time to fill them in; it came as a shock to her that Professor Jeritza was the Death Knight, or so was hypothesized. 

Ashe looks eagerly at Sylvain, his primary teacher, when it comes to Lances. Dimitri was off getting his usual private lesson with Professor Byleth so the entire class was making sure Sylvain wasn’t slacking off as he was wont to do.

Sylvain shrugs and goes back to showing Ashe Tempest Lance, the simplest but still effective of the Lance techniques. It takes Ashe a couple of times before he gets it down and now it means that he only needs more repetition to make sure it is combat ready. 

“Thanks Sylvain!” Ashe cheers once he knocks Sylvain successfully down for the third time. Sylvain lets Ashe help pull him up before responding.

“Not a problem,” Sylvain responds, stretching out his shoulder. Ashe is a good student, he’s respectful and doesn’t sass him, unlike the other three who have been going to him for lance help. Ingrid is on par with him but Sylvain has more experience; his father has been teaching him on how to handle the Lance of Ruin, which still sits locked up in the chest in his room, since he was small. 

His father, despite knowing what it meant to their House and to Sreng, let Sylvain keep the Lance, having proven himself when he struck the disgrace and traitor to his house down. Sylvain still hasn’t written him back. As far as he knows, Count Galatea has never let Ingrid touch Luin.

“Isn’t this good for you?” Ashe asks quietly as they go get some water.

“Hmm?” Sylvain asks, mid-sip. They’ve been here for almost an hour and half. Dimitri promised that this would only last until nine and he’s at the point where he’s counting down the minutes.

“Because we have morning practice so early, that means you can go into town right? And stay as long as you want?” Ashe points out. “You don’t have to worry about training because you’ve already done it.”

“That’s an excellent point, Ashe.” Sylvain grins, keeping his thoughts to himself. The fact that he’s woken up at the crack of dawn means that he can stay as late as he wants in town and not be bothered, because hey, he already did three hours of training. 

Ashe grins broadly, he had noticed the gloom on Sylvain’s face as they were going through the repetition. It isn’t as if Sylvain is a bad person and he’s been going through a rough time like Ashe, what not with Miklan and everything, and he hasn’t been brooding like Ashe has over Lord Lonato. Ashe just wanted to help cheer Sylvain up, although he needed some help coming up with the reason.

El winks at Ashe over Sylvain’s shoulder.

* * *

(5th Day of Wyvern Moon, 1180)

There’s more students than usual attending Gilbert’s monthly Axe seminar. The stern older man usually hosts his seminars the first Saturday of every month, barring a mission from Rhea that is obviously unavoidable. Petra, Ferdinand, Ashe, Annette, Hilda, and Claude have all joined in. This results in Gilbert pairing people together rather than giving them separate instruction. 

Which is fine for Hilda, she gets paired with Caspar and most of it is them goofing off and Caspar smashing things. There’s a bond between the people who went down into that creepy basement and as it turns out, most of the people who did go down are in this Axe seminar, excluding Raphael, Ferdinand, and Claude.

Claude was not happy when he heard that he missed out on all the “fun”. The seminars usually only ran for about two hours and so Gilbert lets them have a break half an hour into the seminar. 

Because there are so many newer students attending the seminar, he’s split it between those who are experienced in wielding axes and those who aren’t. He’s focused a bit on the seminar teaching Monster Breaker as the sudden influx of Black Beasts mean that the students have to be prepared to help break the monster’s armor if they encounter one. 

He has them switch partners afterwards and then she gets paired up with El, which means less goofing off and more sweating, a lot more sweating. 

Getting off the floor, Hilda sighs as El helps her back up. Gilbert has them doing more live combat with training Axes and it seems that El cannot not help but naturally hit hard. This is a bit more sweaty and dirty than she was anticipating getting today but Claude wanted to make a good showing at the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion if not victory there.

Plus, last night’s mission unnerved her as it unnerved everyone who realized that the raid on the Holy Mausoleum was not a one-off event; their enemies could easily infiltrate the monastery whenever they wanted. 

Holst was worried about her; he had written her a flurry of letters ever since the year started and it’s only started going up since the past few months. It’s a concern for the Alliance Lords; many of them have their heirs attending the Academy- the emergence of the Black Beasts and the rise and fall of the Western Church a large concern for them. 

He keeps asking how she is and she doesn’t know how to respond. She’s never really known how to respond to Holst; he thinks of the world of her, she knows but she doesn’t know how he’ll react. While the events of the past four months have been crazy, the day to day really isn’t that crazy. They have classes and they have free days, just like Holst did. 

El knocks her flat on her back again and Hilda sighs, staring at the blue sky. This really wasn’t how she was planning her free day to go. 

“Are you ok?” El asks, helping her back up. “You seem distracted.” Her opinion of El hasn’t changed much in the six months they’ve known each other. She’s far too serious and stern for her age. 

Hilda shrugs listlessly and El watches her. “Do you want to take a break? Get some water?” Hilda does a double-take, words she’s never heard come from El’s mouth since they started their music practices. She and Dorothea have proven to be slave drivers for sure, working in tandem to get them into performance shape. 

El watches her for a moment, a brown eyebrow raised expectantly. 

“Sure,” Hilda hesitates as they place their training axes against the wall and go get some water. El takes a deep draught of water, breathing hard. Hilda sips on her water, still deep in thought.

Holst will be expecting a letter soon and it seems too easy to brush off his concerns and fake her usual response. But, how could she describe the Death Knight and the threat he posed? Twice they faced off against him and twice, he escaped. Professor Byleth had a plan for the Death Knight, she and Caspar hit him, they hit him hard and he didn’t even flinch. What kind of man, what kind of monster was the Death Knight and why was he in the monastery?

“What’s on your mind?” El asks quietly, not breathing as hard but still sipping her water. Hilda sighs, she’s not in the mood for spilling her guts right now, especially not to El. 

Hilda stays silent while El expectantly waits for an answer. Not receiving one, El glances around. “Stay here,” she murmurs to Hilda as she approaches Gilbert. She exchanges words with the stern man and Gilbert nods and El smiles back at him. 

“Come on,” El says to Hilda, “Let’s go get something from the meal hall.” She grabs the training axes they were practicing with and puts them back on the weapons rack. Hilda stares at the brunette as she heads back. El looks back at her and jerks her head towards the entrance of the training field. “Let’s go.”

Claude’s green eyes watch them leave. Monica is watching them too.

They split a Saghert and Cream and a Peach Sorbet in the meal hall. El happily digging into the Peach Sorbet with a smile. Hilda’s still in shock; she was still reeling at the thought of drill sergeant El helping her skip Gilbert’s Axe seminar without a second thought. 

“You know, I have no qualms about eating all of this by myself,” El remarks as Hilda has not taken a single bite of the food. Hilda automatically takes a scoop of the Saghert and Cream but still not taking a bite of the food. “Seriously, I can and I will.” El states, taking another scoop of the Saghert and Cream for herself. “The others will tell you, I have a major sweet-tooth and it knows no limits.” She shoves the cobbler into her mouth with a bright smile.

“Why?” Hilda asks. 

“Why what?” El counters, sliding the Peach Sorbet over in front of them. “Why do I have a sweet-tooth?”

“Why are you missing the Axe seminar?” Hilda replies, the cobbler is dripping a little bit onto the table and Hilda puts it in her mouth. “I thought you never missed a day of practice in your life.”

“Well,” El raises the spoon to her chin thoughtfully. “I already had practice this morning, Dimitri organized a Blue Lions practice and so the Axe seminar was just another practice and with everything going on, double days aren’t really what’s needed right now.” She glances at Hilda, her purple eyes examining her. “Besides, something was up with you. Your heart wasn’t there, more than usual,” she corrects. “You’re so talented, you shouldn’t waste your time like that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hilda bristles slightly. She hates that talent talk, it’s followed her, her entire life, with Holst and as she grew older. 

“Just,” El waved her spoon around, “You weren’t really saying anything the entire Axe seminar, I was watching you and Caspar to make sure you were focused,” she shrugs and purses her lips, pushing a lock of her brown hair behind her ear. “You were going through the motions and that’s odd for you. No comments about how tired and sweaty you were, just training. Something was up, so I asked Gilbert if we could leave early.”

“And he just let you?” Seteth must have told the other Knights of Seiros who hosted seminars because Hilda couldn’t get away with anything in those seminars, which is why she rarely went to them.

El shrugs, “I’ve known Gilbert since I was 9, he trusts me.” El digs another spoonful of the Peach Sorbet into her mouth. 

“Wait, what?” Hilda asks, distracted by that statement. “You’ve known him how long?” Gilbert had been part of the Knights of Seiros for years, he was here when Holst attended the Officer’s Academy.

“He used to serve in Fhirdiad,” El explains patiently. “He oversaw my training along with Dimitri’s. He knows me well.” El raises her spoon for another bite.

“So the rumors about him and Annette are true?” It was not missed by the gossiping masses the resemblance between Gilbert and the Blue Lions student Annette. 

“They are,” El raises her chin, staring Hilda in the eyes. “But that’s something Annette and Gilbert have to work out so don’t go spreading that around.” El takes another bite of the Saghert and Cream. “Seriously Hilda, if you don’t keep eating, I will eat all of this.”

Hilda takes a look at the two entrees, both already half eaten. She stares at El, surprised. El shrugs. “Sweet-tooth.”

Hilda focuses on the Peach Sorbet, it will melt before long. Besides, she’s seen El stare longingly at the Saghert and Cream and she’ll split the rest with her. 

“My brother, Holst, wants me to write to him constantly,” Hilda complains over the Peach Sorbet. El freezes, with another bite of the Saghert and Cream almost to her mouth. She puts it back down on plate, watching her. “I love my brother but he’s too much sometimes. How do you write about life-threatening events without making him want to pull me out of the monastery?”

“I wouldn’t know,” El says quietly but Hilda barrels on.

“Holst didn’t want me to come to the monastery,” Hilda explains to her. Holst had wanted to keep his dear baby sister near him as he grew into his role of Duke Goneril. Their father had died a year before and Holst was still learning his role as the Duke with help from Duke Riegan and Judith of Daphnel. 

But if she stayed near the Alliance, all she would ever hear about was how wonderful and brave Holst was and how she would never live up to his shadow. Not like the monastery was any better, Holst’s heroics were well-known here as well. But at least she had more freedom, she could go to the village whenever she wanted and not be judged by Holst’s ardent followers.

“It’s just, I know Holst cares, a lot but I just want some space to breathe.”

* * *

(6th Day of Wyvern Moon, 1180)

With Monica joining the Black Eagles House and Flayn joining the Blue Lions House, it makes the houses decidedly uneven, especially in the Golden Deer’s favor. Thus the decision for Cyril to join their class is born. Claude’s been pulling for the young boy to join and his clamor is supported by Lysithea, Ignatz, and Seteth. Cyril’s less than pleased, though.

“I can’t read!” Cyril complains to Lysithea in the library. “How am I supposed to keep up with Professor Hanneman if I can’t even read?” Cyril’s hair is all mussed up as he runs his fingers through it several times. It doesn’t help that he’s falling behind in his chores, even though both Lady Rhea and Shamir promised that his choirs could take a backseat to his studies. 

“I’ll help you,” Lysithea soothes behind her stacks of books. She stands up, her head barely poking over the top of them. She comes around the corner of the books with a bright smile. It’s a long campaign planned by Claude that finally succeeded this past month. The newer students won’t be participating in the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion as their combat may not be up the level of the other students but integrating them into their classes is a top priority for the professors.

“We’ll start with the basics,” Lysithea soothes, patting Cyril cheerfully on the shoulder. “And if that doesn’t work, we can let Professor Hanneman and he can make a set curriculum that doesn’t involve a lot of reading. Or I can help you with the homework, you’re plenty smart Cyril, I bet all I’ll have to do is just read the directions to you and you’ll get it right.”

Cyril hesitates, “That sounds like an awful amount of work for you Lysithea, are you sure?” Lysithea may spend most of her time in the library studying but she’s more than happy to help Cyril with his homework.

Lysithea waves it off, beaming. “No trouble at all Cyril, now let’s get to work.” She grabs a fresh page of parchment, writing down the letters of the alphabet, both the uppercase and the lowercase form. She figures it would be best to start Cyril recognizing individual letters and then moving onto words. “Say, Cyril, since you’re joining our class, is there anything you’d like to specialize in?” Lysithea taps her quill to her chin.

“Well,” Cyril is slumped over the desk, rolling his head on the side. “Shamir has me working on Bows right now. I guess I’d like to learn Axes too? And maybe Flying?” He sits up straight. “I haven’t put too much thought into it, ya know?”

Lysithea nods eagerly. “Claude and Ignatz can help you with bows too if Shamir is too busy being a Knight of Seiros,” Cyril wrinkles his nose at Claude’s name. 

“I’ll pass.” He grumbles, Lysithea hands the piece of parchment over once she finishes writing.

“Claude teases you a lot too?” Lysithea says sympathetically. Claude loves to treat her like a child when she clearly isn’t. She’d never actually hurt him but she’s lost her temper at him plenty of times. He can be really annoying.

Cyril scowls again. “I don’t know, he keeps bringing up Almyra like it’s supposed to be a happy memory for me- same with Ignatz too.” He points out. “I’ll stick with Shamir teaching me, thanks.”

“How would you like people to talk about Almyra with you then?” Lysithea asks curiously. She’s heard stories, of course, about the Almyran people. They’re not depicted well at all and the only Almyran she’s ever met is Cyril and he’s nothing like those awful stories. 

Cyril shrugs lifelessly. “I’m not sure,” he admits readily. “Maybe the same way people talk about Dagda with Shamir, I guess.”

Lysithea stares, “People don’t talk about Dagda with Shamir,” she retorts quickly.

Cyril shrugs again. He looks over the parchment with the alphabet, his face screwing up with every letter he reads. He puts the parchment back down. “I’m doomed,” he declares, putting his face back down onto the table. 

Lysithea prods him with a finger. “It’s only the first day, don’t give up,” she cheers. “Besides, in the meantime, we can ask Professor Hanneman to draft up a side curriculum for you. He’d do it if we asked.” She scoots over back to her stack of books. She has a lot to review before the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion. Claude had stressed his desire to do better than they had performed at the mock battle at the beginning of the year and the rest of his class shared his wishes as well.

“You think so?” Cyril raises his head back up again.

“I know he will,” Lysithea says confidently. The professor had felt bad for her when he had pushed her past her tipping point; she blurted out the fact that her dual crest nature was not natural and would cause her to die young. It wasn’t as if Professor Hanneman was a bad man, just an annoying one who placed far too much importance on crests. 

He would want to help Cyril succeed and if he knew that she was helping Cyril, he’d want to help out naturally as well. 

* * *

(12th Day of Wyvern Moon, 1180)

Ignatz was left staring at the statutes of the saints again after the morning prayer. It’s something that he did every so often, even though the others teased him for it. It was his artist’s nature; the craftsmanship on the statues was beautiful and they were ceramic. His favored approach to art was oil based paint but he often defaulted to pencil sketching.

He spends most of his free days on art; he knows that he should be using it on more productive things like training or going out on the training battles and earning a little bit of money. Things that would prepare him well for his future as a knight. 

But, the stress of the last month has him focusing on more whimsical things on his free days. If he didn’t take those days off to focus on his art, his side talent, he feared that he might go mad. 

He had helped Professor Byleth search for Flayn on the first free day but there was no luck and the additional stress of Seteth asking Professor Byleth every hour if there was any sign of his sister did not help. Professor Byleth took one look at him the next weekend and dismissed him, seeing the deep circles hidden by Ignatz’s glasses. He liked Flayn; she teased him yes and she was a bit odd but she admired his artwork, encouraged him even.

“Hey buddy,” Claude sidled up to Ignatz as he was lost in thought looking at St. Cetheleann’s statue. St. Cetheleann was the only female among the saints revered in the Church of Seiros. Flayn liked it when he focused his artwork on him and he wanted to make something for her, to make her feel better after last month’s events. 

“Oh, hi Claude,” Ignatz says wearily, his eyes going straight back to the statue of St. Cetheleann. Flayn liked St. Cetheleann and he was still trying to figure out the best way to incorporate her into a painting, or a sketch, he wasn’t picky. Claude stands next to him, staring at the statue of St. Cetheleann with him.

“Did you know she was never married?” Claude’s voice interrupts his thoughts. His house leader stares, unsmiling at St. Cetheleann’s statute. It’s a strange sight, Claude is never without a teasing expression on his face. “St. Cethleann was never married or had any children, or so Flayn tells me.”

Ignatz shrugs. “Does it really matter?” He wasn’t really going for marriage themes in his art so he wasn’t sure how it applied to him.

“It’s just curious,” Claude remarks to Ignatz. “How does Flayn have a Major Crest of St. Cetheleann if she never had any descendants? And how does she and Seteth have different Major crests of a father and daughter pair when they’re siblings?” At Ignatz’s strange stare, Claude laughs. “Don’t mind me, I like to talk to myself outloud when something is bothering me.”

“I see,” Ignatz nods, it does make sense. Claude seems like the kind of person who has a lot of theories roaming around in his head. The amount of pranks he played certainly proved it true. “She’s an interesting part of the Church’s history; she’s one of the saints but no one really knows very much about her. There are more stories about Saint Indech, Saint Cichol, Saint Maculi, and of course Saint Seiros but not much about Saint Cetheleann.”

Claude sighs in agreement. “It’s interesting how St. Cetheleann received her own crest when she could just have easily inherited St. Cichol’s.” He smiles, easily. In the six months Ignatz has known Claude, he’s proven himself to be a good house leader. Perhaps not as awe-inspiring as Dimitri, who Raphael heard lifted a whole carriage by himself, or as commanding as Ferdinand, who helped organize a rescue of a village last week when a Black Beast was rampaging near it. But Claude always seems to have a plan for every situation; Ignatz doesn’t worry about being left out to dry. He knows that he’s one of the weaker members of the house but Claude makes sure that no one is left behind.

“I’m glad Flayn’s ok,” Ignatz confesses, quietly. Flayn, for the most part, did not remember being held captive by Professor Jeritza, or the Death Knight. She was shocked by the fact that a month had passed as she only recalled drifting in and out of sleep. She did not know why Professor Jeritza targeted her specifically; there were odd theories around the monastery. He had overheard Professor Hanneman and Linhardt discussing her crest, which they dismissed quickly as a motive. The crest of St. Cetheleann was not a rare crest and thus Flayn would not be specifically targeted for said crest.

Claude nods in agreement. “I don’t think anyone suspected Jeritza of kidnapping anyone, except for Professor Manuela it seems.” Professor Jeritza was a stern and intimidating man who never smiled. He spoke of battle and bloodlust often but he was hired at the monastery after all. Claude looked around, noticing the empty cathedral. “I’ll see you at Shamir’s bow seminar, yeah?” 

Ignatz nods. Claude wanted the Golden Deer to be a competitor at this year’s Battle of the Eagle and the Lion, which was coming up in a few weeks. Ignatz wanted to showcase what he learned in the school year as well and Shamir’s bow Seminar, which was happening later today, would be a big help. 

This week’s seminar would focus on breaking the monsters’ armor as they kept appearing in higher frequency in the weeks gone by. More and more villages were reporting Black Beast appearances and it was becoming a real concern for the Church of Seiros and the countries of Fodlan.

* * *

(12th Day of Wyvern Moon, 1180)

Ingrid pores over the letter that Margrave Gautier sent to Sylvain. She glanced at Sylvain again and then back down to the letter, silent. “He still haunts me even after death,” Sylvain says with a laugh. It was a letter about the band of bandits that Miklan had led and eventually left behind. They were causing trouble in Gautier territory and Margrave Gautier wanted Sylvain to get rid of them.

“Who else have you shown this to?” Ingrid asks Sylvain quietly. The letter was short and to the point; there were no questions asking how Sylvain was or how his classes were going. Nothing like the letters she received from her parents. 

Sylvain shrugs, “Just you. Can’t show this to El, Dimitri, or Felix. They’ll pass the information to Lord Rodrigue or the King and can’t have them hearing that my father is having issues controlling his territory.” That much was true, the three of them were very closely entwined with Faerghus royalty, they were future Faerghus royalty. Ingrid was born at the right place and the right time with a Crest. That was how she was involved with their group of friends as well as her engagement to Glenn. 

Sylvain was born at a time where they were looking into annexing Sreng. For far too long, Sreng had been a thorn in their country’s side. Margrave Gautier became involved in the planning because of his closeness to Sreng and the knowledge of their tactics. He brought Miklan and Sylvain with him. 

Miklan was stand-offish and did not want to be around children; Glenn thought he was a creep and didn’t care for the way he ignored Felix and the others. Sylvain, on the other hand, was friendly and didn’t care about being whipped in battle. In a group of such competitive individuals, Sylvain was vital to their existence.

“I think if you told them, they wouldn’t tell the others,” Ingrid argues for their friends. “If you asked for discretion, they would grant it for you.” They had been friends for years, their bonds were more important than providing information for their family. Sylvain shrugs listlessly and he reclines in the grass. 

He’d asked her to meet her in the field and she thought it was his way of avoiding an angry girl who he jilted again. She spent far too much time covering for him but she couldn’t help it, it was Sylvain. “How are you going to handle this?” She asks quietly, keeping the letter in her lap. 

“I have to listen to my father,” Sylvain says with his eyes closed, the green grass contrasting his fire red hair. “That much is true. I can’t do it alone,” he cracks open an eye. “Who should I bring this first to?” 

“If I bring this to Dimitri, he’ll cause a big fuss, probably rope in the entire class and the Professor,” Sylvain ticks off his index finger. “Felix might hit me because I kept this from him and I really don’t need that right now,” he murmurs exhausted. “El, she’ll still hit me but it probably won’t be as hard.” He rolls on his side, burying his head into the grass. 

“We could bring this to the Professor,” Ingrid suggests, staring at the letter. “They’ll help you and be subtle about it. They can ask the others not to bring it up to Lord Rodrigue or the King. They will involve the entire class,” she nudges Sylvain with her food. “But everyone will want to help you, Sylvain. I know they will.”

“That’s an idea,” Sylvain gets back up, meeting Ingrid’s eyes. “They don’t care about Kingdom politics; if it comes from the Professor, Dimitri, El, and Felix will have to listen.” In the six months they’ve known Professor Byleth, they have proven themselves to be completely unaware of the intricacies of Fodlan politics. They had been a mercenary for over a decade and were unaware of the Crests and the meaning they had in society. But they care about them, the students and they aren’t afraid to put themselves on the line. Sylvain’s almost jealous of their ignorance.

And so they go; Professor Byleth ropes the entire class as suspected but they do it under the guise of a training mission in the field. It’s just their class; not the Black Eagles nor the Golden Deer. They even hide their intentions from the Archbishop and Seteth, citing the need for practical battles that didn’t involve almost life-threatening situations. 

They told the Blue Lions class the truth of course, Sylvain wasn’t the type to deceive someone for his own benefit, one of his better human traits. Dimitri was upset of course that Sylvain didn’t feel comfortable approaching him with the letter. Felix and El did hit him although it wasn’t as hard as expected. 

In the end, they routed the bandits out of Gautier territory, giving a stern warning to those who survived the battle. Leniency was not a trait that Margrave Gautier possessed; Sylvain did, a result of the life experiences he had with Miklan. Despite the clemency Sylvain offered to the bandits, Margrave Gautier gifts him the Lance of Ruin, ordering him to use it well. They were gone less than a week, closer than before.

* * *

(19th Day of Wyvern Moon, 1180)

Dorothea is walking with the girls after another short music practice. They’re beginning to harmonize really well and now they have to plan their dance routines. But the Battle of the Eagle and Lion is little more than a week away and they need to focus on that. It’s far more important to their house leaders, who are all very competitive it seems.

Ferdinand’s grown on her, a bit like mold some would say. He’s so very earnest, wanting the best for their little house. He fusses over Bernie, making sure that she doesn’t feel too overwhelmed in their classes. He chases off bullies for Petra, Mercedes, and Linhardt. He makes sure Hubert doesn’t give too many heart attacks at night. He tries to give Caspar direction when he’s gone too off course. And for Dorothea, he’s tried to show that he’s more than just some spoiled noble. He still is but at least he knows he’s a spoiled noble.

They’re walking to the dining hall, chatting about their day when El stops, stares, and narrows her eyes. Dorothea stops as the others continue to the dining hall, following El’s eyes. It’s Ingrid with an older man; he looks oddly familiar. 

“Glenn?” El calls out and Ingrid and the older man turns towards El’s voice. Ingrid turns pink as the older man brightens.

“El,” he returns, El rushes down the stairs to throw herself at Glenn with a tight hug. Ingrid waves to Dorothea, awkwardly as she approaches. 

“When did you get here?” El mumbles into the older man’s chest. It’s the most affectionate she’s ever seen El be with, including Dimitri. 

“Just today,” he smiles. “I’m here to see the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion; the king sent me,” he slips El a letter from his inside pocket. “This is from my father,” he slips El another letter. “Share those with Dimitri, will you?” El nods, eagerly.

“And who might this be?” Dorothea smiles, not flirtatiously but it is one of her more charming smiles. 

“Glenn Andres Fraldarius,” he bows and now it makes sense. His long black hair that he wears in a high ponytail that curls resembles Felix’s just so. It also makes sense why Ingrid blushed when Dorothea approached them. She notes the missing left hand that he keeps half-hidden with an overly large sleeve. “And you are?”

“Dorothea Arnault, a friend.” She beams, while Glenn is engaged to Ingrid and obviously unavailable, she does want to make a good impression on him. 

El nudges him in the side, “We’ve told you about her,” she reminds him, gesturing to her and Ingrid, who looks like she’d rather be anywhere than here. “She’s the singer from Enbarr.”

Realization dawns on Glenn and he nods. “I remember now, you like to tease Felix, correct?” At her hesitation, “Good for you, he needs it,” Glenn whispers conspiratorially. She likes him even more already; Felix was far too dour for his age and he would have considered him a suitable marriage partner if he just smiled more. Or brooded less.

“Well, we’ll let you two get back to your walk,” Dorothea chimes in. Ingrid looks like she’s swallowed a particularly sour lemon and Dorothea doesn’t want to make it worse.

“Bye Glenn, see you around Ingrid,” El waves as they head towards the dining hall. Ingrid and Glenn continue their walk around the monastery, heading towards the market based near the entrance of the monastery.

“So that was Felix’s older brother?” Dorothea asks as they walk over the dining hall. The other girls left them behind once they saw them chatting with Ingrid and Glenn.

El nods, “Yes, he’s her fiance,” she confirms, knowing the next question on Dorothea’s mind. “They’ve been engaged for a very long time; Ingrid won’t say it and I can’t get anything out of Glenn or Lord Rodrigue and forget Felix but I think they’re aiming for the wedding to be after we graduate from the monastery.”

“You seem familiar with them,” Dorothea remarks. The force that El had launched herself at Glenn was impressive, she was surprised that he wasn’t knocked over.

“ I was a ward with them for a few years in the Fraldarius dukedom,” El responds casually. “I got to know all three of them well, including Sylvain.” Dorothea blinks, surprised. She thought that El was raised in Fhirdiad with Dimitri and the king. The knowledge that she was sent away surprises her. 

“And when is your wedding date with Dimitri?” Dorothea teases. She and Dimitri are not very affectionate with each other. She has overheard Sylvain teasing them but it doesn’t seem like the Kingdom of Faerghus takes affection lightly. 

El shrugs, “Not sure,” as they enter the meal hall. El takes a moment to sniff the air for the food. “Smells like pheasant,” she hazards a guess, she drifts over to the line serving the food. 

Dorothea takes her elbow and pulls her over to the side. “You don’t know?” Having entered the Officer’s Academy with the ultimate goal of finding a husband, that’s a bit concerning for her. El shrugs again. “You do want to get married to Dimitri, right?”

El blinks, surprised. She mulls over the thought. “It’s complicated,” El responds after a minute. “The question is not whether I have to marry Dimitri but what is best for me and this moment, it’s getting married to him.” At Dorothea’s aghast stare, El laughs. “I do love him if that’s what you’re worried about. But we’ve known each other since we were small and we’ve been engaged for so long, it’s more of an afterthought at this point.”

“I care for Dimitri and I know he cares for me,” El further explains to Dorothea, who still remains silent. “When the day comes, I know we’ll be ready for it.” Dorothea had considered El to be almost nobility but even someone as strong as she didn’t have a choice in who she married.

* * *

(24th Day of Wyvern Moon, 1180)

Glenn’s been at the monastery for a few days, much to the delight of the majority of the Blue Lions and the other girls at the monastery. It’s a rare appearance by Ingrid’s fiance and everyone is interested. Ingrid is known for her dedication and hard work around the monastery; she does extra field training and is always there with a positive word or encouragement. To meet the man that Ingrid is betrothed to is fascinating, especially since he’s related to Felix.

It’s the night before they leave for Gronder Field in Bergliez territory and Glenn’s made a couple of appearances in training sessions. He’s made quite a stir when he’s beaten many people in sword combat without his dominant hand. They corner Ingrid at the bath-house and she freezes at the questions and the smiling faces. 

Annette isn’t trying to encourage Mercedes or Dorothea but she’s interested in hearing about Glenn too. El nudges Ingrid with her hip and a smile and a nod. 

“We’ve been engaged since I was a baby,” Ingrid starts hesitantly. “Glenn’s just always been there, I’m not sure what else you want me to say.” Ingrid flushes, red cheek and half naked. 

“When’s the wedding date?” Dorothea pipes in, her long brown hair piled high in a bun. Seeing everyone’s long hair at the monastery makes Annette want to grow hers out but with her Wind magic makes her hair go everywhere so it’s been best for her to keep it shortish.

“Not sure,” Ingrid responds nervously. “I’m sure our families have been in negotiations but it’s not information I’m privy to.” She threads her fingers, intertwining them together, hiding them behind her back. 

“How far have you gone?” Hilda tosses in, not missing a chance to tease Ingrid. The pink haired girl walks by with a towel wrapped around her. Ingrid gapes. She flushes even redder and starts looking down at her feet.

El turns to Ingrid expectantly with a smile on her face, teasing her. “So?”

“Stop encouraging them,” Ingrid hisses, still red-faced. With all the extra heat in the bath-house, she’s beginning to worry about her. “We’ve kissed,” she says hesitantly, her face burning. “But that’s it, nothing else.”

El pauses, “Wait, really?” It seems that this came as a surprise to her, seeing how close they are to each other.

“Yeah,” Ingrid shoots back. “Why do you think we were so late getting back to the carriage?” 

Realization dawns on El, “Oh.” She blinks, curiously. She turns bright pink and Annette isn’t sure if it’s because of the heat or what Ingrid just told her.

“What about you?” Ingrid asks, desperately trying to get the attention off her. She’ll even crack a question about her future king, something she’d never attempt under different circumstances. “How far have you gone?”

El shrugs, “We haven’t even kissed yet so that’s why I was surprised.” The girls’ heads whip around from staring at Ingrid to stare at El. “What?” She stares right back, her purple eyes large and honest. 

“You and Dimitri haven’t even kissed yet?” Dorothea says, her voice high pitched and strangled. “What are you two waiting for?” Annette’s a little confused too. She and Dimitri are affectionate with each other, she’s seen him come out of her room often enough, she would have assumed they'd already kissed. 

El shrugs, calmly. “We haven’t kissed,” she confirms. “I don’t know why, it’s not something I’m really interested in and neither is Dimitri.” She answers so comfortably, different compared to Ingrid, who is trying to back away quietly so she can finish her bath in peace.

Hilda shakes her head and mutters under her breath. “You Kingdom people are so repressed,” as she walks away. The rest of the girls dissipate, the fun ended with El’s candid answers, taking away half the fun of it.

Annette stays with Ingrid and El, curious. Her uncle never showed much interest in getting her married off. If she’s had any suitors, she hasn’t heard from them. It’s probably something her mother is more involved in but Annette isn’t too crazy about the idea of marriage. Fiancees and engagements always struck her as a more of a grown up thing to do and it made sense that the two of the three most mature girls in their class were engaged. 

“You really haven’t kissed Dimitri?” Ingrid asks, her voice low and curious. El shrugs, her shoulders rolling smoothly.

“It just hasn’t come up,” El responds. “I didn’t realize that it was such a big deal.” El ties her hair up in a high bun, towering over her head.

“I don’t think it is,” Annette pipes in and the other two girls look at her, realizing she was still there. “I haven’t kissed anyone either and it’s not that big of a deal.” She flushes pink, Mercedes has gone a few dates here and there but no one’s really shown very much interest in Annette. Probably because there are so many more interesting girls at the monastery, like Hilda or Dorothea.

“Thank you Annette,” El says pointedly. “It really isn’t, Dimitri and I will go at our own pace and when it’s the right time, I’m sure it will happen. But I’m not going to lose sleep over it.” She wraps the towel around her, waiting for them to finish undressing.

Annette nods in agreement and they continue undressing for their bath. The monastery had an elaborate bathing system with a sauna room as well that helped relieve stress after a long day. Of course, it was recommended that people didn’t stay too long in that room because it could cause fainting.

“Speaking of boys,” El’s voice drifts back into her head. “Has Felix bothering you?” Annette freezes, Felix’s teasing coming back to her mind. She’s been able to keep it in the back of her head because thankfully, Felix doesn’t talk too much. Except to mess with her it seems. No stories of her stupid silly songs have been leaking out, or so she thought.

“No!” Annette squeaks, her voice high pitched and nervous. “He really hasn’t.” If Felix told El about her stupid songs, she’s going to blow him off a cliff. “Why do you ask?”

“Well,” El says with a frown. Ingrid eyes Annette curiously and smiles encouragingly as Annette stays rooted, firmly in place. “I just saw him bothering you at the library and I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t bothering you unnecessarily. He can be...cruel with his words and if you need me to talk to him, I will.” El clasps her hands around Annette’s with a calm heartening grin. ”I’m not afraid to tell Felix off if you need me to, okay?” Her light purple eyes meet her’s eagerly and Annette shivers.

Annette appreciates the sentiment, she really does but if she has El tell Felix off, that means that she’ll have to explain to El the reason why Felix was teasing her in the first place. Or if she does have El tell Felix off, Felix might lash out at her in anger and tell everyone about her songs, which she really does not want. “I’m good,” Annette squeaks. “Really, I’m fine, I can handle myself, El. Thank you for offering though!” She runs off, almost sliding on the slick bathroom tile. 

* * *

(27th Day of Wyvern Moon, 1180)

Ashe absolutely wants to do his best at the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion. There’s a competitive edge in the air; every house leader wants to show how strong their house is and how much they’ve learned. Of course, the Blue Lions have the theoretical edge in this battle, their shared past history and their victory at the mock battle all those months ago. Of course, Dimitri warned them of sitting on their laurels too much. “We are not the same students we were six months ago,” he cautioned. “Every single person on that field has undergone the same months of training as us, we must be vigilant and we must be prepared.”

Ingrid nods and wrinkles her nose, “I’m pretty sure Claude was joking but he was talking about using poison during the battle so keep your guard up.” She shudders at the thought of Claude touching her food; she’d probably rip his hand off. She’s always been protective of food. 

“We’ve all seen what Lysithea can do all on the field,” El remarks quietly. The magical prodigy was seen exploding dummy after dummy this past month when she wasn’t in the library, there would be no mercy from her.

“Leonie’s a really good cavalier,” Sylvain comments delicately. He brought the Lance of Ruin with him to the field; he received permission from Professor Byleth and Seteth but his experiences with Miklan’s bandits gave him a bit more confidence when wielding the Lance of Ruin. He’s had some rare extra training with both Seteth and Jeralt and they’ve taught him a lot when it comes to using his family’s relic. “Be careful of her and her battalion, they’ll come up on you quick if you’re not careful.” 

Ashe scales another tree, scouting the terrain. “Black Eagles on the right, there’s a structure there and a bastillae on top of the hill. The Golden Deer are on the left in the trees, can’t really see them that well.” He remarks, climbing deftly down the tree.

“That will most likely be the main target for everyone,” Dedue remarks calmly, plucking a twig out of Ashe’s hood. “If they control the bastillae and the hill, they can see from any angle and they will have the high ground.”

“We’ll have to move quickly,” Annette comments, keeping her eyes towards where Lady Rhea and the other teachers were located. They were waiting for a signal to come that would announce the beginning of the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion.

“I should probably dismount when we approach,” Ingrid murmured, petting Adele’s mane. “Just to be safe.” Their only flier, Ingrid, would be vital in striking down aerial opponents and catching the other houses by surprise. If she gets taken out in the air, it will make the Battle that much harder for them.

“If we can take the bastillae,” Dimitri orders, “It’s only natural that Ashe takes control of it.” Ashe perks up, glancing at the others. He was the only bow user in their house. “We will have to make certain that the Golden Deer do not take the bastillae first. If they get it, they will be dangerous.”

“Careful of the early strikers,” Felix remarks coolly. “If we get too confident and aren’t careful, they can eliminate us first.” His amber eyes flicker between each member of the group.

Dimitri nods in agreement. “Be alert and prepared for any surprises. The Battle of the Eagle and Lion... It’s name comes from the war in which the Kingdom won its independence from the Empire. It's imperative that we fight our best. We must live up to the legacy of the King of Lions.”

The sound of horns interrupt their conversation and all heads turn to the origin of the noise. “That must be the signal,” El murmurs softly. “We should get ready soon.” She slid a hand axe in her belt, keeping her hands free for magic. She grins, her heart racing for the heat of battle. 

Dimitri mounts his steed, getting into the position, Ingrid and Sylvain do the same. Dedue takes the right side, facing the Black Eagles. Ashe had seen a battalion of Pegasus Knights in the distance and it was decided that Dedue would cover the right flank with Ashe sniping down by his side. 

Annette was paired with Felix; she carried an Iron Axe by her side as well, which made her a little slower than usual with the additional weight. It was decided that because Felix was fast, he could help cover her in case she was attacked. Ingrid and Sylvain led the attack, Ingrid going high into the air to see any potential enemies who she would call out to Sylvain. He would relay the information to Dimitri and El. 

When they passed the bridge, they would send Sylvain with Ashe to take the bastilla. If back-up was required, and they had prepared signals if necessary, then Felix would approach. Ingrid and Dedue would be in charge of the right flank and El, Annette, and Dimitri would be in charge of the left flank. 

They approached the bridge in formation and unexpectedly, Lorenz was the one who broke formation again, charging into the fray by himself. Annette saw him coming and threw a Cutting Wing spell, nothing too serious but just enough to spook his horse and slow his approach. 

This started the battle, as it was peace one moment and then chaos the next. As planned, Ashe and Sylvain made a break for the ballistae, running up the hill. Petra came out next, lunging with her sword; Ashe ducked and dove and Sylvain reared his horse up and batted her back. Realizing that she was outnumbered, Petra retreated and ran from the hill. Sylvain gave two loud clicks, requesting for back up and out came Felix.

From the corner of his eye, Ashe saw Caspar and Linhardt beat Raphael back as Linhardt made him unsteady with a Fire spell at his feet and Raphael ducked a blow from Caspar’s axe. Bernadetta aimed with her arrow and screamed, “Sorry about this!” Raphael was out of the battle. 

He heard Thunder crackling in the sky and Dorothea had thrown a Thoron directly at Dimitri but El was there to take the brunt of the attack with a soft grunt and a raised Hexlock shield. Another crackle and Dimitri reared up his horse as he dodged a Banshee attack, this time from Hubert. Dedue narrowed his eyes and took himself in the fray, protecting Dimitri from another Miasma spell. Dorothea, noting the situation, retreated back into the woods while Hubert stood his ground, sneering.

Dedue took him out with a swing of his Axe and then was taken out by Mercedes, her hands in the air summoning a Bolganone against him and a satisfied smile. Ashe shook his head, refocusing his attention to the other parts of the battle. He saw Annette taking on Hilda and launched the ballistae at Hilda, distracting her as Annette threw the biggest Saggitae spell she could muster.

Petra got him next, so distracted by the battlefield that he lost sight of Sylvain and was taken from the field. 

From a high point next to Dedue, he watched the scene unfold. Mercedes struck Annette down with an arrow strike of her own, Bernadetta took the ballistae over next. Dimitri and El were focused on the right side, taking out Caspar and Linhardt in quick succession. El would block an attack from either Caspar or Linhardt while Dimitri struck them down quickly with his lance. They were close to the river, making their way further north. 

Claude was causing chaos with arrow strike after arrow strike. He did not need the ballistae to reach far distances, he in tandem with Lorenz bombarded Petra with blows until she was defeated. Lysithea was a force of her own, her magical energy flowing through the battlefield.

Ingrid came up next to Dedue and Ashe, shaking her head. “Lysithea is terrifying. I thought I was high enough but she still got me. I was able to take out Ignatz though so that was nice,” she remarks, removing a branch from her hair.

Felix, working with Sylvain, was able to take down Lysithea although Sylvain had to be sacrificed in order to do so as Felix slipped past Sylvain and was able to knock Lysithea down triumphantly.

More and more students came back up, tired and exhausted from battle until there were only a few left on the field. Claude, El, Dimitri, Ferdinand, Mercedes, and Leonie. Dimitri and El were the only two that managed to stay by each other’s side. Leonie defeated Mercedes who in turn was trumped by Ferdinand. Claude, seeing the situation going south, disappeared into the trees. Ferdinand saw Dimitri and El, he charged Dimitri first, lance pointed towards him. 

To dodge, Dimitri leapt off his horse and Ferdinand had to divert away in order to keep from colliding. Then he focused his attention on El, wielding only a small hand axe. El stood her ground, wielding the small hand axe at the ready. El blocked the lance jab with her axe, disarming Ferdinand by breaking the lance shaft in half. She raised her hand axe towards Ferdinand’s throat who raised his hands, surrendering.

Dimitri regrouped with El with a smile and nudge, their easy camaraderie visible from here. El pointed towards the area where Claude was seen last; they let Ferdinand bring back Dimitri’s horse back as leading two horses was an easy task for the Emperor’s heir. They made their way slowly towards the left hand side of the field. Claude was a skilled archer, quick to reload and to strike. He also had a sword by his side and if he played his cards right, he could target El before Dimitri could react.

When they stopped near the front of a thicket of trees, a discussion seemed to brew between the two. It seemed that El wanted to go in first and see if she could find Claude while Dimitri waited in the clearing. Dimitri was against this. But Claude had no patience for this argument; he struck first coming out of the brush to fire a quick arrow at Dimitri and coming in for a sword strike against El, who dodged by bending backwards. 

She kicked out a boot to disarm Claude with his sword and he leapt away, dropping the sword and slinging his bow. Another quick arrow by Claude, this time aimed at El, Dimitri came in from the side, knocking Claude down. 

The Battle of the Eagle and the Lion was over, the Blue Lions had won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our favorite Emperor's birthday is this Monday and I am woefully unprepared. I might post the next chapter early in celebration of it but other than that- I got nothing. 
> 
> If you guys have any quick prompt ideas that you want me to write in celebration, leave a comment! I only ask that you give at least one day before her b-day so I can write something for it. 
> 
> I tried this thing where I wrote short quick versions of paralogues because I consider them very important to character's development but also couldn't dedicate an entire chapter to them because that's a lot of words. So let me know what you think!


	14. Part II Chapter IX

* * *

(30th Day of Wyvern Moon, 1180)

They head back to the monastery, slightly bruised but not egos it seems. The Blue Lions are proud of their victory but won’t boast about it. It’s not their style. Dimitri’s happy that they won, unsurprisingly. Glenn kisses Ingrid on the cheek after they regroup. Ingrid flushes red and endures teasing from Sylvain until Felix steps on his foot. 

Count Bergliez was there to oversee the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion, it was Gronder Field that they were using after all, one of the biggest clearings he had in his territory. He had an agreement with the Church of Seiros not to use it for farmland so they could use it every year. In return, the Church of Seiros gave the Bergliez family a discounted rate on academy fees for their children and anyone they asked for it. That’s how Caspar could attend the academy, even though he’s a second son from a crestless family who will get nothing when his father passes.

He greets Caspar strangely, his father is usually so focused and intense, that his distracted behavior is odd. He doesn’t console or congratulate Caspar on his performance, but Caspar thought he performed decently enough. He helped Bernie and Linhardt take down Raphael and he took down Marianne after all, but then he felt bad because Marianne would never hurt a fly. It was in the name of victory though, and even though the Black Eagles lost, it was still an excellent time. 

The results didn’t disappoint anybody- the Blue Lions house worked well together and Professor Byleth was proving to be an excellent teacher and mentor. The battle was a wonderful demonstration of their skills and how much they grew, just like Lady Rhea said they had. When they get back, there is a feast waiting for them. Raphael looks like he might start drooling from all the food laid out for them.

It’s a celebration for all the classes, not just the Blue Lions and their victory. The house leaders requested and organized the feast. It was a recognition for the growth and dedication that the students have put into this school year. 

Caspar sits, enjoying the range of food and the amount of dishes being laid out for him. He’s controlling the amount of food he eats, much to Linhardt’s comfort. He had tried increasing the amount of food he ate in a day so he could grow taller like Raphael, but that backfired. Plus, it made Linhardt not want to eat with him anymore and he doesn’t want that.

He watches Bernadetta hedging in front of the food, indecisive as to what dish she wants but also being very concerned about where she’s getting the food from. He’s about to just go put some Country-Style Red Turnips on her plate for her when Raphael comes by with some Derdriu-Style Fried Pheasant and shares… with her. Derdriu-Style Fried Pheasant is one of the more popular dishes amongst the students and Bernadetta being Bernadetta probably wouldn’t have gone for it in this kind of setting. If it’s one thing Caspar’s learned about Bernadetta in the six months is that she doesn’t like to bother people. If there’s one thing that he’s learned about Raphael in the six months is that he doesn’t really share food.

He wants to tuck this information away, but he gets distracted by the chocolate chip cookies Mercedes brings out. And he runs before all the girls eat the cookies before he can.

* * *

(1st Day of Red Wolf Moon, 1180)

The mission this month is more of a low-key mission. It involves Remire Village and some stories of strange illness going around the village. However, after the events of the past few months, this mission seems to be a little more relaxed in comparison. There have been rumors of missing students, but students have always gone missing from Garreg Mach, usually returning home like they thought Monica did. This is because after the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion, their studies get harder and more strict. Potentially, it may also result from the Death Knight still roaming around. People see him, but before the Knights of Seiros can arrive, he’s vanished. Jeritza is nowhere to be found. 

Because of the events of last month, they weren’t able to celebrate Ashe’s birthday, which was on the 17th of Wyvern Moon. They wanted to give him more time after Lord Lonato’s death, but they’ve all got presents ready for him. Annette and Dedue cooked Ashe’s favorite dishes and Dedue’s had also prepared a beautiful bouquet from the greenhouse for him. 

El and Ingrid somehow got their hands on a very rare book from the market that people have only seen written summaries rather than the original novel. It’s a first edition copy to boot. Dimitri requested a riding saddle from Fhirdiad’s leather workers as a gift to Ashe. Felix and Sylvain got a new bow and arrows for Ashe as he outgrew the one he used right now. Caspar pops in with a small gift for Ashe, just some ancient coins that his father had in his possession. Somehow they’ve bonded over finding cats disguised as ghosts in the monastery. 

It’s a small low-key affair for Ashe, it’s been a rough couple of months for him and they have a letter from his siblings they wrote to him. Although Lord Lonato died at the church’s hands, he was not a traitor to the Kingdom by King Lambert’s order. The crown has not seized Castle Gaspard and its surrounding territory. Through careful negotiation, King Lambert made an agreement with the Church and Ashe’s siblings still live in Lord Lonato’s castle. 

Because Lord Lonato died without true born heirs or siblings, they must follow his will. Ashe will become the next lord of Castle Gaspard.

* * *

(2nd Day of Red Wolf Moon, 1180)

At music practice, Mercedes is unattentive and misses her cues. Everyone notices. As one of the oldest girls in the class and the music group, she is well-liked for her sweet demeanor but also her ability to retort back. People have heard legends of her retorts to Lorenz and Sylvain; it’s made her quite popular in the monastery, along with her delicious sweets. She’s willing to share her baking creations with the other students, especially around exams. Annette reveals that she’s a stress baker.

Professor Manuela has recovered enough after her wounds from the Death Knight, and she and Dorothea work in tandem to help corner Mercedes after music practice. Annette waits on the side outside the hallway. Mercedes did not reveal to her what her concerns were, but she desperately wants to know what is bothering her oldest friend. 

Mercedes reveals a letter from her adopted father and all the girls who were waiting in the hallway come in, reading the letter. 

“I know this creep,” Dorothea says derisively, scowling at the letter. It’s a marriage proposal for Mercedes from an Alliance merchant. “He’s nothing but trouble.” She looks Mercedes in the eye, “You’d do well to stay away from this man.”

Mercedes sighs and gives a sad smile. “If only it were that easy,” she says mournfully. “If this is what my adopted father wants, I have to follow his wishes.” She looks down at the letter, running a finger across the words.

El takes the letter in hand. “Why?” She scans over the letter, “I thought your adopted father was a wealthy merchant, why would he need to marry you off?” Mercedes had revealed to the girls over a late night of wine and cookies after a successful music practice, that she and her mother took refuge in a Kingdom church. It wasn’t uncommon to hear that; there were many poor people in the Kingdom who relied on the kindness of the Church of Seiros to survive. Through his reforms, King Lambert had been hoping to cut down on the number of people who did because there was still work to be done.

“He wants his connections, I suppose.” Mercedes sighs, taking back the letter. “He went into a lot of debt to buy back the noble title of Martritz from the Empire and this man is a wealthy merchant who has business all over Fodlan.” It was no secret; Mercedes’ adopted father purchased her father’s title once he was able to adopt Mercedes. It was not out of kindness, however but a way to integrate himself in Adrestia politics. When that failed, it seemed that he would marry Mercedes to the highest bidder, just for her crest. 

“It’s blood money,” Dorothea declares loudly. “This man’s money is dirty and the man is a selfish creep. The stories I could tell you about him. He tried to court me and it didn’t go well when I said no. It might just all be rumors but it’s worth investigating,” she explains to them.

Annette nods furiously. She knows she’s lucky that her uncle has never sent her marriage proposals, but she knows it’s in her future. She can only hope that her mother will help with the negotiations when the time comes. 

“Alliance merchant, huh?” Hilda asks, glancing over the letter. “Let me ask around our class, I can go ask Holst too if we need to do a deep background check.” She looks to Professor Manuela, “Would you be okay supervising a trip to Alliance territory if needed?” She asks sweetly. It’s a long trip to the Alliance, if they’re going to be leaving monastery grounds, they’ll have to be supervised by a professor. 

“Of course,” Professor Manuela agrees loudly. “All you girls are lovely flowers waiting to bloom, I’d hate to see you get cut short just because of a man.”

Somehow, all the girls in the three houses catch wind of their little mission and ask to come as well. It’s a mission to protect Mercedes, who has patched everyone up at least once. Even Bernadetta comes as well, much to everyone’s surprise. It’s important to them and some research begins. 

Raphael and Ignatz don’t have much to say about the merchant from their travels, only that he’s well-known and well-connected. Lorenz remarks that he’s seen the name of the merchant in the Gloucester logs, meaning that the suitor has rubbed elbows with some very well-connected people. 

Only suspicions emerge, backed by Dorothea’s scathing word. It’s not enough to convince Mercedes’ adopted father and so they go to Alliance territory and it’s chalked up to female bonding. No one wants to get involved when Professor Manuela describes it like that. Leonie looks a little squeamish when Professor Manuela says it, but Leonie is tired of men thinking that they can control women by dangling a marriage stick in front of them.

They break into the merchant’s office by using Ingrid’s pegasus Adele to get in through the window. They search the merchant’s records, looking for any signs of the rumors Dorothea told them. Human trafficking was illegal and forbidden by the Church of Seiros. There were no legal laws against it because the social taboo was thought to be enough. Apparently not. It was an underground trade, but as long as they were paying buyers, there was a market. 

Bernadetta finds it in one of the logs, skimming through the words quickly. Petra’s eyes flame angrily when she reads that there were Brigid people involved, who were left in Adrestia when the invasion failed. They had made an honest living on the continent and then sold unsuspectingly. 

El makes quick notes of the findings, scrawling them down on parchment. They would like to take the whole log with them, but the suitor cannot find any trace of them here. They were after all committing a crime to reveal a crime. She hands the piece of paper to Professor Manuela, who slips it into her pack. 

Because of the merchant’s connections in Gloucester, his office is located there. They are close to Galatea territory, so they go there at Ingrid’s behest. They need to regroup emotionally before they go back to the monastery. It probably wouldn’t be best to stay in the Alliance because if Count Gloucester finds out that Hilda, Marianne, or Lysithea were there, it would be trouble for their houses. House Galatea does not suffer as it used to thanks to the Duscurian farming techniques Dedue brought over. She is not ashamed to bring them there. 

They are followed however and chased over Aileill, the Valley of Torment. They do not stop there as the fires and smoke would hamper anyone who stayed there. But they are close enough to see the thick flames rising in the shadows. It’s not the merchant but men who he hired to capture Mercedes and her friends. 

But they hail from the Officer’s Academy and are the cream of the crop of the future leaders who will lead Fodlan into the future, kicking and screaming as it may be. They easily dismiss the hired mercenaries, further evidence of the wicked deeds of Mercedes’ suitor. They regroup at Galatea and make their way back to the monastery. They were gone less than a week and when asked what happened, they responded with “bonding trip.”

Mercedes writes to her adopted father with proof in her hand of the merchant’s dealings. She did not want to be married to such a man and the proof of his deeds further cements it. They bring the information to Seteth who is furious, however because his “dealings” do not involve the Church of Seiros, there is little they can do about it. Her concerns are dismissed by both the Church of Seiros and her adopted father. 

Fuming, Hilda writes to her brother as does Marianne to Margrave Edmund. Lysithea wrote to her parents a week ago, explaining where she was going. They even have Leonie rope in Lorenz who reveals the crimes of the merchant being done on Gloucester land. At that point, even Claude is brought in and now they have all five Great Lords working together.

House Gloucester, usually the dissenter, leads the way in arresting and imprisoning the merchant. Lorenz explains it as his father is infuriated that a man, who is blatantly a human trafficker, chose to conduct his “business”, while a guest on their land. After losing his wealth and his name, there is no more talk of having Mercedes marry that man. It will only be the first of the many marriage proposals waiting for Mercedes in the future. She will need to find another way to avoid them.

* * *

(7th Day of Red Wolf Moon, 1180)

“All of that really happened?” Dimitri asks El, astonished, as she recounts her tale to him when they returned back to the monastery. He had missed her and so he was staying in her room for the night. He sits on her bed as El brushes her hair out in front of her mirror. She told Dorothea that she didn’t use any special products in her hair and she was telling the truth. She hand dried her hair after she bathed and she brushed it out almost four times a day, using a special comb Dedue had given her. 

El nods, laughing. “Yes,” she states, looking at Dimitri. “We were chased around Gloucester because we broke into his records. I’ll have to write a letter to your father about that by the way,” she points out. Claude had brought up the issue to his grandfather and they would have to do the same in the Kingdom. Ferdinand had promised that he would write to the Seven regarding the issue. El prayed that he wouldn’t mention her name. 

Dimitri pulls him into bed with her, “My little freedom fighter,” he remarks, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. He kisses her on the side of the forehead as he tucks them into bed. “You were busy.”

El shrugs in his arms, facing him. “It was worth it. Mercedes’ adopted father broke the negotiation talks with him at least.” She mentions quietly. She still fumed at the fact that Mercedes would have to marry a man of her adopted father’s choosing, a man who proved that he did not have her best interests at heart. 

Thankfully, Dimitri wasn’t having as many nightmares this month. He was worried about her when she emerged from the basement with the others and she had to stay in his room for an entire week until his nightmares subsided. 

“That girl…,” he mentions quietly. “The one you rescued with Flayn, she was looking for you. She wanted to see you earlier.” He adds tiredly, his eyes closing and his arms wrapping around her. 

El sits up, “Monica? She was looking for me?” Since she was freed from the Death Knight’s clutches, Monica von Ochs was proving to be a very strange girl. She was very interested in her and El wasn’t sure if it was because she knew El from Enbarr or because El had ‘stood’ up to the Death Knight. She didn’t stand up to the Death Knight, she was supporting Professor Byleth against a foe who did not care what injuries he sustained, only the bloodlust from a fight against a worthy opponent.

Any time El was alone, Monica would come find her. El rarely went anywhere without anyone these days, on account of Flayn disappearing. She hardly went to the library anymore, which was just as well because Tomas had left the monastery grounds again this month.

It was a tad bit concerning but El had not heard of Monica trying to transfer into the Blue Lions house so she left it at that.

Dimitri nods, one eye cracking open to gaze at her. “She was,” he mentions softly. “She’s been around you a lot,” he notes. Sometimes when Monica was trailing after her, she would duck into the training hall where she knew at least Ingrid, Felix, or Dimitri would be. She usually lost her there. “Do you want me to speak to Ferdinand for you?” He asks gently.

El’s been avoiding Ferdinand. She knew him when they were young before the Insurrection. They had shared a love of the opera along with her older sister, Deirdre. Deirdre was the one who taught her how to sing and dance. 

“Please,” El answers, allowing herself to be pulled back into Dimitri’s arms. His chest rests against her back as he breathes in her hair. A familiar hand rests on her hip as they fall asleep together. El tries not to let her thoughts consume her.

* * *

(8th Day of Red Wolf Moon, 1180)

Raphael is getting dinner with Bernadetta, something that happens every so often. He doesn’t ask Bernadetta why him specifically because she’d probably run if he did and then he’d never see her. It’s just after classes end and it’s been a pretty long week of classes. But it’s nice, they just sit there, not saying much and eating. Bernadetta reminds him of a rabbit, nibbling at her food. He would encourage her to take bigger bites but he doesn’t want her to run, or choke while eating. 

Ignatz comes in with worry coloring his face, he clutches a letter in his grasp and it’s an uncharacteristic look for Ignatz. If he has any concerns or worries, he usually does his best to hide it no matter what the issue is. There’s trouble brewing for Ignatz and he doesn’t know it yet. Looking around, Ignatz quickly shoves the letter into his vest, going to grab some food. 

“Is it okay if Ignatz sits with us?” Raphael asks Bernadetta in a low tone. When she freezes but nods, Raphael waves Ignatz to come sit with them. When they first entered the monastery, Ignatz was so awkward around Raphael but they’ve gotten closer since Raphael peeled the answer out of Ignatz. It was just like Ignatz to be so concerned about something that was out of his control.

Yes, he missed his parents and he does think life would be easier if they were around but they weren’t and he wasn’t going to lose any sleep about it. Ignatz chose some Fish and Bean soup, one of the popular items at the dining hall. Sitting in silence, they continue to eat; Raphael keeps his eye on Ignatz who is only picking at his food.

Bernadetta notices as well and she garners up the courage to ask, “Everything ok, Ignatz?” When Ignatz looks up and doesn’t immediately answer, she begins to babble. “You know what, you don’t have to answer, it’s fine really.” Raphael can see the literal steam come out of her ears as she begins to combust.

Ignatz shakes his head. “Everything is fine, I just got a letter from my father and my brother.” He pulls out the letter from his vest, handing it to them. “It seems that there have been attacks on merchants in the Alliance. Black Beast attacks.” All three of them shudder. Raphael has seen those Black Beasts in action, there’s been a lot more training focused on how to take them down. But merchants don’t have any training, the sight of them would make anyone terrified.

“There have always been monster attacks on merchants in Alliance territory,” Raphael remarks, “I mean that’s how my parents….” He was okay with his parents’ death. It had been years since they passed and it was fine. He was fine. 

Ignatz pales, turning white. “I’m sorry to bring it up Raphael.” He pauses but continues, “My parents are starting to notice a pattern with the attacks.” Bernadetta watches them converse, staying silent. 

“How so?” Bernadetta asks quietly, looking down at her food. 

Ignatz glances back at Raphael’s face, waiting for an answer before continuing. “It seems the attacks are focused on merchants traveling from the territory of House Gloucester to the Riegan Dukedom, but not merchants going from the Riegan Dukedom to the territory of House Gloucester. It’s a concern for many of the merchants including my family. They’re going to be traveling that same route and they asked if I could accompany them, for protection.” He wavers, “But I don’t know what I’m going to do, I’m not strong enough to protect them.” He chokes out, Ignatz pale. 

Raphael rests a large steady hand on his shoulder. “I’ll help,” he says calmly to Ignatz. “When do they leave Gloucester territory?” Ignatz is a good person, he felt guilty for the loss of his parents but it wasn’t his fault. It was just the wrong day at the wrong time and if he can help it, he’d like to stop Ignatz from feeling the same pain of losing his family. At least he still had Maya and his grandpa alive.

Bernadetta shakes but responds, “I’d like to help if that’s okay.” She presses her palms nervously. “I don’t know how much help I’d be but I would like to come if that’s alright.”

Ignatz smiles tearily, looking at them both. “Thank you, thank you so much.” He chants to himself, he wipes his eyes, trying not to let the tears drop. 

“We’ll get the rest of the class involved, yeah?” Raphael nods. “As awesome as we are, I don’t know if the three of us can protect an entire caravan.” They are pretty strong but while it is Ignatz’s family they’re protecting, it doesn’t mean that they’re going to leave the other merchants traveling with them to dry.

And so they do, they bring the mission up to Claude who brings the mission up to Lorenz, who readily agrees. After the knowledge of the merchant who was human trafficking in Gloucester territory, Lorenz feels the need to clear the Gloucester name or at least start to. This is only the first step of redemption for Lorenz. 

They involve the Golden Deer class and they get permission from Professor Manuela for Bernadetta to come along as well. She agrees, in part, because this is one of the first times that Bernadetta wants to go on a mission. In the past, she had to be coaxed or bribed to come out. This is growth for Bernadetta.

The journey from Gloucester to the Riegan Dukedom is uneventful for Ignatz and his family but when they head back to the monastery they find another caravan of merchants under attack from mysterious mercenaries and a large Black Beast. It roars and threatens and the mysterious mercenaries who accompany it give it a large berth of space. 

They manage to save the merchants from harm’s way, allowing them to retreat into the forest as they face the Black Beast and the mysterious mercenaries. It’s a hard fought battle but they escape relatively unscathed except for the fact that Lorenz’s father’s name is brought up several times by the mysterious mercenaries and the merchants who were attacked. 

Lorenz tries to remain tall but even he cannot ignore the dealings of his father. They might only be rumors but the rumors themselves are unsettling. Count Gloucester is an important member of the Alliance but even he can’t remain unscathed from rumors. 

* * *

(9th Day of Red Wolf Moon, 1180)

Sylvain goes through another set of lance exercises with the Lance of Ruin. He brought it with him to the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion but used it sparingly there. This is his family’s relic and regardless of how he feels about crests, and he’s spent a long time with Mercedes unpacking their feelings about them, but this is another step he needs to take. 

It’s way too early in the morning for him but this was the only time the training field would be free and the Lance of Ruin is a powerful weapon; he’s not putting anyone in danger until he figures out how to wield it successfully. He holds it in front of him, hearing the wind breathe as he slices through the air with it. Jab, slice, then pull. Jab, slice, then pull. The Lance of Ruin almost feels alive in his hands, it’s not rigid like most lances, it locks but also twists. It’s very similar to the Sword of the Creator, it can release at a moment’s notice. It feels like it almost connects with his thoughts, it will lock when he needs it to lock and it will release when he needs it to release.

He twirls the lance in his hand, feeling the weight of it. He doesn’t know if he will be the man that his father or the others will want him to be but he will become one regardless. 

“How long are you going to stand there,” Felix’s sharp voice cuts through his thoughts. Sylvain jerks his head, staring at Felix who sits on a box, waiting for him to regain focus. 

“How long have you been there for?” Sylvain responds, lightly putting the Lance of Ruin down next to Felix’s box. He grabs a flash of water, sipping on it. “What time is it?”

“Long enough to see you taking this seriously,” Felix retorts, getting off the box with a small jump. “Are you done for the day or can I get a spar from you?” He wields an Iron sword at his hip, ready.

Sylvain shrugs, “Sounds good to me,” he grabs an Iron Lance for himself. He’s not wielding the Lance of Ruin against anyone anytime soon, even if Felix asks him. “You warmed up?” Professor Byleth has stressed the importance of a good warm up before battling. A pulled muscle in live combat could mean death; they’ve seen it several times. Their class wasn’t sure if they were joking or not. Annette is of the theory that Professor Byleth doesn’t know what humor is, especially after long hours of physical conditioning for everyone.

Felix gives him a dirty look before raising his sword. Sylvain sighs, wishing that his friends didn’t show their affection through sparring. He sees Ferdinand and Hubert getting tea all the time; he has to beg El to sit down with him even if he has her favorite Bergamot tea with Mercedes’s cookies. His life is hard, okay?

Felix strikes first as always and Sylvain blocks it with a blow himself and jabs Felix with it but only hits empty air. Sylvain dodges another blow from Felix, raising his lance above his shoulder. It’s something new that he’s trying out, as recommended by Jeralt. He’s gone to him for some tips and tricks, recommended by Professor Byleth. Jeralt doesn’t look at him like he’s dirt on his shoe, which he appreciates. 

Jeralt, it seems, does not care for nobles but it seems that is more of an indifference to him, rather than a hatred, which Sylvain appreciates. This world often relies on extreme emotion. Like Sylvain and his duties, he understands that there will be a time when he needs to assume them but as of right now, he is content where he is. And right now, he is lying on the ground after Felix pulled his lance close and did a high kick to Sylvain’s chest, making him fall. He really wishes his friends showed affection through other means.

He lies on the dirt for just a few moments before Felix pulls him right back up, disappointed. He may have been training more than he used to but it doesn’t mean that he wants to be here. “I thought you were taking this seriously,” Felix says, his voice low.

Sylvain raises his hands up, before leaning over and picking up the lance. “I am, I am. It’s just been a long day. You never answered me, what time is it?” He asks, pushing his sweaty bangs out of his face.

Felix clears his throat. “It’s only 8, are you done already?” Felix’s amber eyes never leave Sylvain’s. It’s hard to read Felix now, it used to be easier when they were younger; Felix was always so open with his emotions but now, Sylvain can’t get much from him, other than disappointment and anger. 

He shrugs, “Been here since 6, so it might be time for me to get some food.” As if on cue, his stomach grumbles. He didn’t get anything to eat this morning, he wanted to get some practice before people started coming in. El and Annette walk in with training axes by their side, freezing when they see Felix and Sylvain. He shakes his head, “I’ll see you around, Felix.” He trots off, putting the lance back into its stand and waving cheerfully to Annette and El before he leaves the training field, Felix behind him. He doesn’t need to see the disappointment on Felix’s face.

* * *

(13th Day of Red Wolf Moon, 1180)

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Professor Manuela was observing a villager from Remire Village. There was an outbreak of disease there and Professor Manuela had her mask on as she examined the patient with Mercedes and Marianne by her side. It was a practical study for them, a useful demonstration of physical illness and the implication of dark magic and poisons. 

She had determined that this was not a natural born illness and unfortunately if they didn’t know what combination of dark magic and poisons caused the illness, they could not determine the cure. With their aide, Professor Manuela has the screaming villager subdued but not cured. She ran her light green hands fueled by Faith Magic over the villager’s unconscious body. She has Marianne and Mercedes assist her, she likes to think out loud and having them to bounce ideas off helps her think. After an hour of observation, she dismisses then, finding no further information than they started with. 

Marianne is grateful. She’s never been great with small dark rooms and Professor Manuela’s hospital wing wasn’t helping. She usually had it well-lit but the patient reacted better when it was dark and so she had the curtains drawn down. But it’s better than being with Professor Hanneman. If she was with him, he would probably start asking questions about her crest and she really doesn’t need that. She’s grateful to have Lysithea in her class, taking up the attention as a magical prodigy and her dual crest nature. 

Mercedes invites her to breakfast with her but Marianne refuses, she wants to be alone right now. The patient was screaming and frothing at the mouth until Mercedes knocked him out. It was a harrowing sight and she wants to decompress at the stables until she feels normal. When she gets there, she’s not alone unfortunately. 

Ferdinand is there. They’ve talked a little bit about horses, Ferdinand seems to love them. The stable is his refuge as much as hers. He’s talked to her about nobility and their duties, they’ve clashed over the ideals. Perhaps clashed isn’t the right word, he lectured her and she yelled back at him. They’ve reached a good point though, he focuses on the horses and she focuses on the horses and everyone is happy.

But not today, Ferdinand is distracted, he cares for the horses and he brushes through their mane but he isn’t humming like he usually is. Ferdinand likes to hum and sing to the horses and while Marianne prefers to work in silence, she doesn’t mind it. 

Ferdinand’s brow furrows as he continues to brush his horse’s mane. Ferdinand introduced her to his horse, proudly declaring her name to be Annalise. She’s a mare, which surprised Marianne. Most cavaliers prefer large warhorses for their size and speed. Mares are a rarity for cavaliers because they tend to be smaller and less imposing. But Ferdinand always puts on a smile for Annalise and it’s very admirable. Marianne hasn’t chosen her particular field yet, staying in the Priest class for the time being. Professor Hanneman has recommended that she look into Lance training and Riding because she spends so much time in the stables anyways; she’s the first to volunteer working in the stables when Professor Hanneman suggests chores for the week, often beating out Leonie and Lorenz. 

"Is everything ok?” Marianne asks as Ferdinand reaches for another carrot for Annalise. He freezes, staring. 

“My apologies!” He yelps, putting the carrot down. “I didn’t realize that you were there, Marianne. I apologize for not greeting you.” He bows furiously, keeping his eyes down. His hands are ungloved, Marianne notes, which isn’t uncommon for him, they both prefer to be able to feel the horses as they care for them. “And yes, I am alright,” he smiles weakly. “Thank you for asking.”

Marianne nods in response and he goes back to his ministrations. They work in silence for a few minutes before Ferdinand asks, “I know we’ve had a discussion about noble duties and I won’t bring it up if you do not want to speak about it but I was wondering about your thoughts about feeling unprepared for the future.”

Marianne pauses, putting down the comb for Dorte. She had started to braid his hair and Dorte was enjoying the ministrations as he nudged back at her hands to continue braiding. “What do you mean?” She asks quietly.

“I mean, what if for your entire life you had prepared for one duty and then only a few years ago you were given an entirely new duty with new roles and powers that you never considered. Especially if you were not the one who was meant to be that person?” Ferdinand blurts out, staring at Annalise’s mane. “What if you were shoved into a role that was not meant to be your own?”

Marianne blinks, unanswering. She struggles to form her words. Ferdinand takes her hesitance for an answer. “My apologies Marianne, I did not mean to trouble you like this. It has just been something that has been on my mind for quite some time,” he grins softly. “It is not good for an Emperor to have such outbursts.”

“I think that it’s good to hesitate,” Marianne rushes to respond before Ferdinand walks away. Ferdinand pauses and turns around, looking at her. “To think that we know everything at this age, it’s not good for anyone to think so. But it is a new role, and it will take time to adapt.” She recalls back to when she was adopted by Margrave Edmund. She had resigned herself to a life of loneliness and despair marred by poverty after the death of her parents but Margrave Edmund rescued her from that. Now she expected a life of loneliness and despair really.

The new duties that were thrown at her when she was adopted were overwhelming. It took her many weeks to realize that food was a constant rather than a luxury for her new life. But while Margrave Edmund was not a warm man, he allowed her time to adapt to her new life. She appreciated that about him.

“I see,” Ferdinand nods, his smile not yet reaching his eyes but his steps are lighter. “I understand what you mean.” They return back to their work and Marianne continues braiding Dorte’s mane. Soft humming fills the silence around them.

* * *

(16th Day of Red Wolf Moon, 1180)

So it’s Claude’s fault that they end up following Professor Byleth to the Red Canyon. He was studying with Linhardt on the topic of crests; more like Linhardt was schooling Claude on the topic of crests when he sees the Professor sneaking out of the monastery. They rally the troops, Linhardt more unwilling than Claude, and get all three classes to follow the Professor out of the monastery. 

The Red Canyon is less than a day’s away from the monastery and they quickly get permission from the other professors to allow them to leave, unsupervised. Professor Manuela is occupied with the treatment of the villagers from Remire Village and Professor Hanneman is occupied with a slight breakthrough with his research. 

It’s not the best idea anyone has had, especially when the many, many waves of Black Beasts appear out of nowhere, screaming and howling like the wind. A lot of the students have faced them off in small skirmishes during their free day but this many Black Beasts appearing at once, ready, feral, and aware of their presence unnerves them. 

Only Professor Byleth’s presence standing firm in the face of such monsters with the Sword of the Creator by their side calms them. They remember their lessons and team up in groups of four, each group taking down a Black Beast on their own. Compared to when they faced Miklan all those months ago, they are a well-oiled machine, taking enough down to finally escape when there is a gap of enemies. 

They never do find out why Professor Byleth went to the Red Canyon, they’d rather not ask. It’s chalked up to the many mysteries that make up their professor.

* * *

(19th Day of Red Wolf Moon, 1180)

So Hilda’s worried about Marianne. Despite her sweet looks, Marianne doesn’t know how to do much other than working in the stables. Hilda can usually get Marianne to do her chores in the stables but then she feels bad about it because Marianne is actually happy to do it. So much so that she won’t even ask Hilda to trade chores with her, so Marianne takes on her normal chore work and the stable work also. Marianne doesn’t even know that Hilda’s taking advantage of her. 

But in the two times they’ve run into Black Beasts, Marianne’s gone into a fugue state. Raphael had to carry her out of the Red Canyon when they were able to kill enough Black Beasts to get out. Claude’s worried about her too and he doesn’t even try to disguise it with his scheming. 

She corners Marianne after classes and invites her to dinner with her. More like forces her because Marianne likes to retreat to the stables after a long day of work. And that’s fair, Marianne should do what she likes to do but she needs to talk to Marianne about what’s going on. With the amount of Black Beasts appearing in Fodlan regularly, it’s not going to go well for Marianne if she freezes every single time she sees one. They won’t be at the Officer’s Academy forever and her classmates won’t be able to help her either.

They share a Two-Fish Saute, a popular fish dish in the monastery. There are a lot of fish dishes served at the monastery, a result of the well-stocked fish pond. Marianne stays silent as Hilda fills said silence with some chatter and gossip. When they finish the dish and the night is dark even though it’s only 6, Marianne deflates. There’s no way for her to spend time in the stables as she was hoping for. 

Hilda grabs dessert for them to share as well, a Saghert and Cream. The dish that she shared with El was really good even though El had like 3/4ths of it before Hilda realized they were eating. 

Scooping a spoonful to eat, Hilda strikes. “So Marianne, how have you been?” She smiles brightly, eating a bite. 

“I’ve been alright,” Marianne replies, nibbling on the Saghert and Cream. Marianne likes this dish as well so that’s why Hilda chose it for the both of them. “How are you?”

“I’m doing okay,” Hilda responds lightly. Marianne was never one to open up so Hilda will have to try a different way of approach. “Those Black Beasts are pretty terrifying, huh.” Hilda remarks, they’ve been showing up in Alliance territory and even Holst has been asking her for some tips to handle them. She’s realized that it feels nice to be relied upon. She’s probably a bit more confident than most of their classmates but El made her go back to the training field with her and they practiced Monster Breaker until they got it right. 

Marianne freezes and nods. Hilda continues, “When we were at the Red Canyon,” she waves a hand, as if fanning herself. “I never thought we’d get out, right Marianne?” She asks pleasingly. 

Marianne hesitates. “Yes, there were a lot of them.” She keeps her eyes down, pushing the fish around with her spoon.

“Never gets easier seeing them, right? When we saw Sylvain’s brother turning into one, that was freaky.” Marianne freezes, staring down at the dish. Maybe the wrong thing to say, Hilda recognizes. “You don’t seem to like seeing the Black Beasts a lot,” Hilda points out, changing topic. “Is everything okay?”

Marianne stays silent, shutting down. Hilda sighs, internally. She doesn’t want Marianne to think that she’s disappointed in her. Marianne just sits there, waiting. Hilda finishes off the Saghert and Cream before Marianne looks up. Hilda reaches for Marianne’s wrist before Marianne flees the table. “I know I’m probably not the best person to say this but you know, we’re here for you. If you ever need to talk or something, just let us know.” Marianne nods shakily, not meeting Hilda’s eyes before she runs. 

Hilda sighs, disappointed. They were doing so well and then she hit a roadblock with Marianne. She probably can’t push the issue for a couple of days or Marianne will start avoiding her and that’s the last thing she wants Marianne to do. 

“No luck?” Claude slides his food next to her sitting down. He picked up some Vegetable Stir Fry that he guards from her fork. 

Hilda shakes her head. “No luck,” she confirms. Claude may be the king of subtlety but even he can’t get answers out of Marianne, especially about how she’s feeling. 

Claude waves a fork, “There has to be something about those Black Beasts that get to her,” he argues. “Not even Bernadetta was scared of them at the Red Canyon.” The purple haired archer of the Black Eagles was known for her cowardice, but at the Red Canyon, where Marianne froze, Bernadetta stayed focused and helped strike some of those Black Beast Eagles with her bow. 

Hilda shrugs. “There’s a lot she’s not talking about. Were you able to find anything about Margrave Edmund?” Claude was focused on the more research part of Marianne, it was his strong suit anyways.

“Rising lord,” he remarks, something that they both knew. “No children until he adopted Marianne. Seems like they were distant relatives before he found her.” All information they already knew about Margrave Edmund and Marianne. Holst commented about Margrave Edmund, only passing comments that Hilda never paid attention to because it didn’t really involve her. 

But Margrave Edmund was not an expressive man who always played his cards close to his chest. After replacing Judith von Daphnel in the Alliance Roundtable, Margrave Edmund was often the decider when it came to decision making in the Alliance. He also had a lot of money, although the level of wealth that he had was a secret. It wasn’t really well-known where his wealth originated from. 

Hilda shakes her head. “We’ll try again next week,” she decides. She needs to go shopping, she figures. They need to figure out costumes with the winter ball coming up next week and they need to be cute but easy to move in. Some of their routines require a lot of movement and freedom. It’s just another thing on the many things that she needs to handle. Having so many responsibilities is a bit of a bore. 

* * *

(21st Day of Red Wolf Moon, 1180)

Today was the day that the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus was founded and there was a feast in the dining hall to celebrate accordingly. The majority of the dishes were fish and cheese dishes, thoroughly funded by Professor Byleth’s fishing habits. Because Professor Byleth was not feeling well, they had spent the majority of their time fishing in the pond. It was where they could be found reliably for every free day of this month. Dedue had to be pulled into the kitchen for his vast repertoire of fish dishes from Duscur. He worked with Bernadetta, Mercedes, and Ashe in showing them how to clean the fish and serve them appropriately. 

All delicious food, Linhardt remarks. Professor Byleth requested his assistance in fishing when the kitchen managers informed them that they were relying on the fish they caught to prepare the feast. It did cut into his napping time but the fact that he was helping Professor Byleth meant that Ferdinand or Seteth could not nag him into doing things. 

All in all, it’s a successful feast day and Caspar is running around, sampling as many dishes as he can, in moderation thankfully. He and Professor Byleth had a very long conversation with Caspar about chewing his food and eating in moderation. It turns out that Caspar tried to emulate Raphael in his eating habits and it was disgusting to watch frankly. Linhardt could barely stomach watching Raphael eat, he did not want two of them. 

It had been a very busy school year for everyone. Thankfully, while at the monastery, he was able to connect with Professor Hanneman, famed Crest Scholar of Adrestia. While they disagreed on the potential uses of crest research, getting to know Professor Hanneman was one of the major motivators for his attendance of the Officer’s Academy. His knowledge on crest research was far ahead of anyone on the continent of Fodlan.

His current research focused on Flayn and the Black Beasts, not that he thought they were related. But Flayn had to be kidnapped for a reason other than her crest because it wasn’t rare at all and the appearance of Black Beasts in their relation to a Hero’s Relic was fascinating. But alas, no information can be found. Seteth keeps Flayn under his supervision at all times when she isn’t with Professor Byleth and he isn’t able to get his hands on a Heroes Relic. 

* * *

(22nd Day of Red Wolf Moon, 1180)

Leonie knows Lorenz is avoiding her; he’s avoiding everyone really. No one is going to make fun of him because his dad is involved in some shady business in the Alliance. Is it a little weird that he let a human trafficking merchant work in his territory? Yes, but it’s not Lorenz’s fault. Is it a little weird that his dad might have been involved in Ignatz’s parents’ death? Yes, but it’s not Lorenz’s fault. Is it weird that his dad might have been involved in Claude’s uncle’s death? Yes, but it’s not Lorenz’s fault. It’s his dad’s. Lorenz isn’t the type of person who uses such underhanded techniques but it seems his father is.

Lorenz has such a strange concept of ownership and responsibility. Probably has to do with his noble sensibilities; none of the other nobles at the academy have such high expectations of themselves. Leonie has no head for politics but given how much Lorenz spouts about it, she thinks that before Claude appeared he had been preparing himself to be the house leader of the Golden Deer. Which is a horrifying thought. 

Claude likes to stick his nose into where it doesn’t belong sometimes but he’s never treated her, Ignatz, or Raphael any different than he does Marianne, Hilda, or Lysithea. He might treat Lorenz a little differently because that’s because they get on each other’s nerves so much. He’s annoying but Lorenz is a different kind of annoying. He’s the kind of annoying that thinks he’s better than you and thinks he can give advice off that, which he can’t. 

But he can be sweet, when he helped Leonie with that nagging leg wound, he did it softly and tenderly, which well, she’s never been treated like that before and she’s never wanted to be treated like that. But it seemed in that very moment their statuses as people didn’t matter. So when he gets a letter from his father about a particularly annoying Alliance noble and a territory dispute, the entire Golden Deer class gets involved.

Why? Because it involves Weathervane, a snivelling annoying weak noble who is part of the Alliance, or so how Lysithea describes him. The noble in question is Acheron, who is a minor noble who owns very important territory near the Great Bridge of Myrddin. He’s referred to as Weathervane because like the wind, he changes sides constantly and it seems like he’s changed enough sides to get on both Claude’s and Lorenz’s annoyed side. 

One of the few times that they are willing to work together, the Golden Deer House will go to Acheron’s territory and just spook him a little bit. For Lorenz, it gives him a chance to get closer to his father and nip a potentially escalating territory dispute in the bud and for Claude, it’s a show of unity for Weathervane in case he ever thinks about defecting. Noble politics are so messy but Leonie isn’t turning down the opportunity to show up some annoying noble. 

When Leonie asks why they can’t just remove Weathervane from his position, she’s met with affronted stares and gasps. Removing nobles from power isn’t just something that is done, Claude explains to her patiently. He’s the only one who didn’t gasp at her. Weathervane has friends in the Alliance and the Empire and they may not be in the highest of places but his removal could cause issues if people disagreed. 

They’d have to get the Five Great Lords to agree and while Weathervane is a thorn in Count Gloucester’s side right now, his removal would benefit no one. The Great Bridge of Myrddin connects the Alliance and the Empire and any turmoil over the bridge could cause merchant delays, which make no one happy. 

Defeating Weathervane is easy. He clearly overestimated himself and both Claude and Lorenz have scathing words for him. He scurries away with his tail tucked between his legs as his men are defeated easily. It only takes a few days to get there and back, just in time for the mission to Remire Village, which is the bigger concern for everyone. Rumors are coming out of Remire and they are unsettling, to say the least.

They’ll have to prepare quickly for Remire, getting only a night’s rest before they have to leave for a horrifying scene. 

* * *

(25th Day of Red Wolf Moon, 1180)

They leave for Remire in a hurry; Jeralt retrieves the professors, rushing them to Remire Village. Reports come in quickly of the plague taking a far darker turn. When Professor Manuela was examining the villagers, they screamed loudly but they were not violent. Their screams seemed to be out of pain not violence but when they get to Remire Village, it’s another scene entirely. 

Remire was a medium-sized village. It was large enough to require walls but small enough that there was very little interest in the village. However, the scene that greeted them was the stuff of nightmares. 

Screams echoed out of the village. “KILL!” One villager snarled as they approached another. Ashe had to shoot them down before they could attack anybody. 

“Oh gods,” Dorothea raises a hand to her mouth, smoke rises as the village burns. The night is dark, only illuminated by the flames of the buildings.

“We have to act quickly,” Jeralt commands loudly. Professor Byleth waits for their orders. There were many villagers who appeared to be normal scattered around the village but there were many who seemed feral. “Your focus will be protecting the villagers,” he commands Professor Byleth. “I’ll rein in the ones who are attacking, alright?” He gallops away on his steed, his lance at the ready.

Professor Byleth nods and they draw up a plan of attack. El turns, her eyes searching the scene. She narrows her purple eyes and she tugs at Claude’s sleeve. Claude, who was focused on Professor Byleth, looks at her. “Look,” she murmurs, pointing near the middle of the carnage. “Is that…?”

“Tomas,” Claude confirms, his mouth in a grim line. The kind librarian had been outside of the monastery for the past month but people thought little of it. Tomas had a habit of going in and out of the monastery for years. “There are people in the middle of the village who aren’t doing anything,” Claude announces. “Tomas is one of them and I think they might have something to do with this.”

Dimitri turns, his eyes focusing. “Yes, I see them too,” Dimitri confirms. His blue eyes turn dark and intense. “It seems that we must deal with them too.” He grips his lance and chuckles, chillingly. 

They approach the village, not a second to lose. Jeralt instructed them to protect the villagers but the rampaging villagers outnumbered the sane ones by a larger number. Professor Byleth instructs them not to use Wind or Fire magic, they don’t want to make the flames worse. 

As always, they form groups, trying to protect their weaknesses with their strengths. Because time is of the essence, they split into smaller groups of three to spread across the village more easily.   
  
Leonie, Lorenz, and Sylvain because all three of them are cavaliers are in charge of the far corners and ferrying the villagers out of the village once they are no longer in harm’s way. At least one group has a healer with them to help treat any villagers caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Although the scene is graphic and horrifying, these feral but untrained villagers are no match for students of the Officer’s Academy. They are easily dispatched and knocked out for their own safety. 

El is paired with Hubert and Ferdinand and they take their time on the right side of the village. They keep their guard up, looking for any villagers who need help but also keeping an eye out for villagers who are being attacked.

“Help…” A voice cries weakly. They search the surrounding area for a villager but there’s nothing there except for a house that burns. “Please...somebody, help.” The voice cries out. Ferdinand turns his head, locating the origin of the noise. He had left his horse near the front of the village, it was easier to maneuver without Annalise by his side. So when he barges through the door of the burning house, it catches Hubert and El by surprise.

“Ferdinand!” El shrieks as the house shakes from the sudden force. She stares at Hubert, who’s gone pale, paler than usual. Then Ferdinand comes out, carrying a small child shielding him with his cape. The house collapses afterwards, a small pile of burning wood. He brushes the soot out of the child’s hair with a soft smile. 

The boy cries and digs his face into Ferdinand’s leg. “Get him out of here,” El orders briskly. “We can cover each other, Ferdinand.” She jerks her head at the small boy. “Get him to safety.” Ferdinand nods, and takes the boy in hand as they make their way back to one of the entrances of the village. 

Hubert gapes in silence as Ferdinand leaves them, a rare look for the dark mage. 

“Good luck with him,” El remarks coolly as they continue on searching for more villagers. Hubert grunts, keeping his hands ready. “Seriously Hubert,” she chides him. “At least I don’t have to worry about Dimitri running into burning buildings.” Dimitri didn’t like fire, a result of the Tragedy of Kleiman, so he’d never run into a burning building. He also thought a bit more before he acted.

Hubert clicks his teeth. “At least Ferdinand doesn’t have nightmares,” he retorts icily. He keeps close to the houses, his hands raised, a Miasma spell at his fingertips.

El hesitates, straightening. “Dimitri is still having nightmares?” She asks quietly. Hubert looks at her, noticing the uncertainty in her eyes. He doesn’t have them when he’s with her and he’s never talked about them with her either. Nor Dedue or Sylvain have come to her with any complaints.

He nods, “At least once a week,” he murmurs quietly. “I’m sure the others can hear it.” He fires a Miasma at a charging villager, knocking her out cold. He focuses on his conversation with El. “He’s not well, I do hope you know that.”

“What do you mean?” El’s purple eyes stare at Hubert, unblinking. Dedue did say that he was having nightmares but Dimitri’s never brought them up to her. If Hubert thought there was something wrong with Dimitri….

“Something is not right with Dimitri,” Hubert points out. “Not just the nightmares, he eats Flayn’s food, calls it delicious.” He points out flatly.

El wrinkles her nose. Flayn is a very sweet girl but her cooking leaves something to be desired. “It could just be him being polite,” El responds tightly. “He’s like that, you know. He doesn’t like to hurt people’s feelings,” she defends Dimitri to Hubert. 

He didn’t know Dimitri like she knew him. Dimitri was thoughtful and kind. He cared for people, not just nobles but everyone. He tried to rope her into teaching the orphaned children at the monastery swordplay but she was often too busy with her own tasks. Eventually, she had heard that he had gotten Professor Byleth to help.

She spots another rampaging villager standing over another. She rushes and knocks out the villager with the butt of her axe. The cornered villager sputters and sobs, running off when El points the way out of the village. 

“He’s not that good of a liar,” Hubert replies, continuing their conversation. Another Miasma to knock out a screaming villager. “He eats it, most slide it off their plates without her noticing.” El pauses, thinking. She’s not much of a cook, she knows that, but Dimitri’s never complained about her food. 

“What are you saying,” El states, calmly. “That Dimitri won’t be a good king? I’ve been with him for almost nine years, he will make a wonderful king of Faerghus.” She’s defensive of Dimitri, he has a good heart although she’s going to lecture him for hiding his nightmares from her. 

“As Emperor, you’d make one better.” Hubert turns the corner and flattens himself against it, pushing El against the wall. “Quiet,” he mutters, his mouth brushing her ear. El turns her head to the side as she hears cackling beyond the walls. Tomas. 

“The experiments are going better than expected,” Tomas grins wildly. “We even got the brat and their students involved.” A deep voice grunted and El felt a chill down to her bones. She might have faced off against the Death Knight with Professor Byleth but she still felt fear when confronting him. 

“I see my quarry,” the Death Knight garbled. “I’m going to go hunting,” they hear the clip clopping of a horse riding away. 

Professor Byleth, El mouths to Hubert who nods. Twice the two have faced off with no clear winner. The Death Knight will be seeking a showdown with them. El wishes Cyril and Lysithea all the best but hope they stay out of his way. El pants, breathing hard. They’re not a good angle, El carries a Hand axe and an Iron axe with her. She can’t use a Fire spell without making the flames worse. Hubert can aim further than her with Mire B. 

“What are you doing here, Tomas?” Jeralt’s voice booms across the clearing, confronting the librarian.

“My name isn’t Tomas, it’s Solon.” A flash of magic blooms, “No longer do I have to hide my appearance from you pathetic humans.” El turns, she knows that voice. 

“Hubert,” she whispers frantically. “He was down there, with Flayn.” The man who ordered the Death Knight to leave, he was here and he was working with whoever kidnapped Flayn.

Hubert nods, barely noticeable. The neighing of a horse signals Jeralt’s charge. A grunt and a blast of magic implodes the scene. “Jeralt!” Leonie’s voice cries out and Hubert turns the corner and fires one the largest Mire B spells he can muster at Solon.

Jeralt was able to dodge Solon’s spell but Hubert wasn’t and he is thrown, hitting a house, causing it to collapse on him. “Hubert!” El cries out, her voice high pitched and shrill. She launches her Hand Axe at Solon, catching him in the side with a bloodied grunt.

She runs towards Hubert, pulling the debris off him as he coughs in pain. Thankfully, he was thrown into a shack so there isn’t too much on him.

“Ha!” Solon laughs as he approaches them, El whirls around, keeping her other axe at the ready. She prepares herself, ready to lunge and smash Solon at a moment’s notice. Hubert is wounded in his abdomen and has a slight cut on his face. He is bleeding profusely. “I always told Thales you were alive.” El narrows her eyes and readies herself a moment’s notice. This is not how she is going to die.   
  
Dimitri comes crashing into the scene, lance at the ready, almost running over Solon. Despite his appearance, Solon is faster than he seems. Sylvain and Lorenz come up to flank him, Sylvain wielding the Lance of Ruin. Jeralt is on the other side of Solon. They have him surrounded. He will not win this fight.

“Why did you choose this village? What are you planning?” Jeralt’s voice booms, there is anger in his voice. Jeralt does not do anger, he does sternness, tinged with sarcasm but this darkness in his voice does not suit him. 

“Heh, I could have conducted this experiment on any test subjects. Now that I have what I came for, I must bid you farewell.” A flash of light appears and Solon disappears. 

El backs up and turns to Hubert’s side, pulling a Heal spell up quickly. She presses it to Hubert’s bleeding abdomen. He gurgles, blood coming up his mouth. “Hubert, stay with me,” she murmurs, calling more Faith magic up. She cradles his head on her hips, keeping the Faith magic flowing. 

Sylvain joins her, his own Heal spell focusing on Hubert’s shoulder. Whatever magic Solon used in retaliation, it was strong. She may have denied her connection to Hubert but she would not lose him like she lost her family. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I opted to post the chapter early in celebration of Edelgard's birthday. 
> 
> I chose to swap Mercedes for Ingrid's paralogue because I felt that her paralogue was still relevant for Mercedes, who in this universe gets her birth father's title because her adopted father purchases it in hopes of getting closer to Adrestian nobility- it doesn't work so he tries to recoup his money by marrying her off to a wealthy noble (this happened in history).
> 
> So happy birthday to the best fucking character I've ever written about. To her hopes and dreams of reforming Fodlan! You were the first character I was interested in Three Houses for many reasons, your character design (female axe wielding Lord? Sign me up) to your unrelenting dreams how Fodlan should be instead of how it was.


	15. Part II Chapter X

* * *

(28th Day of Red Wolf Moon, 1180)

Hubert and Cyril were the only majorly wounded students in the Three Houses. There were some villagers who needed care and the students quickly handled their medical attention. Remire Village was in shambles, the walls were torn down and nearly half the houses burned. They take the villagers back with them to the monastery where Lady Rhea will let them stay. 

The Death Knight had gone straight for Professor Byleth and unfortunately Cyril was in the way when he made his appearance. He didn’t get anywhere near Professor Byleth to challenge them, Lysithea hit him with Dark Spikes so fast he couldn’t even blink. He ran when he realized what he was up against.

They’re tired and exhausted when they come back to the monastery. Beaten and battered by the sight that greeted them at Remire Village, the professors unanimously give the students a few days to recover both physically and mentally from that month’s mission.

Thankfully, the mission that Lady Rhea gives that month is to investigate an abandoned chapel on monastery grounds. It seems that students have been sneaking into that chapel and they might be the ones who have been missing. They do not know it but this mission will hit harder than the last, somehow. 

Dimitri does not rest until he counts the heads of his classmates. He wants to make sure that none were left behind, the thought of that terrifies him. After everyone goes towards the dorm, El grasps for his hand, exhausted. She spent a lot of her energy caring for Hubert and then the wounded villagers who were still sane. “Stay with me tonight?” El murmurs into his ear. Dimitri nods and they head towards her room.

El strips quickly, taking off her damaged and bloodied uniform as does Dimitri. El sneaks some water from the well that feeds the greenhouse as they wipe any remaining blood or dirt that stuck to their skin. They do not speak, too tired from the week’s events. 

They make themselves comfortable, El tucks herself in, on the side of the bed closer to the wall, Dimitri pulling the blanket over them. She pulls herself close to Dimitri, savoring his warmth and the broadness of his shoulders. Dimitri takes it a step closer, pulling her on top of him with a slight grunt. He rests his hand on the small of her back, breathing deeply. 

“Not too heavy?” El asks with a laugh as she squirms to make herself comfortable. Dimitri shakes his head, adjusting her so her head is on his chest. “You alright?” Felix had said some words to her in the aftermath about Dimitri. Nothing unlike his usual harsh rhetoric but Annette echoed the same sentiment, in kinder words of course. He had acted strange tonight, more ruthless than normal. But given the scenery, she could not blame him.

“I’m fine,” Dimitri replies, his voice low. “I should be asking you the same thing, no?” El places her head flat on Dimitri’s chest, entangling their feet. 

El shrugs. “I’m fine, Ferdinand ran into a burning building,” she says with a laugh. To see him covered in soot, clutching a small child to his waist was an interesting sight. Hard to believe that it was the least of her worries that night. “Other than that, there weren’t many surprises for us.” She runs her fingers against his chest, feeling the firm planes.

“You were worried about Hubert,” Dimitri points out. He had seen her, sweating pouring down her brow as she managed Hubert’s worst wounds with the help of Sylvain. He pulls her hand into his, rubbing the palm of her hand that was connected to her thumb. “You seemed worried about something?”

She hesitates. Even in the five years that Dimitri knew the truth about who she was, she never spoke much about her life in the Empire before he met her. “Hubert is a Von Vestra, as you know. They are sworn to the Von Hresvelgs at a young age. I met Hubert when I was four and he was six. He was to be my vassal when I grew up,” she explains softly. She doesn’t remember the day she met him. One day he was just there, always silently following her. 

“Your vassal? Not your siblings’?” Dimitri questions. He knew that she had many siblings and she was on the younger end of them but not very much else about her family.

El shakes her head, “The Crest of Seiros determined our place in the succession. I was the third child to have the Crest of Seiros and the only one who was close to Hubert’s age. It was decided that he would be trained as my vassal and then join whoever inherited the throne. We were close when we were younger.” 

She remembers those days of climbing in trees and eating fresh fruit as Hubert stayed by her side. She misses them. Her adjustment to the Kingdom was difficult, she didn’t realize that her uncle was telling them all that she died in the flames of the Insurrection until her mother told her one night. She had been talking about what it would be like to return back to Enbarr, about how much she wanted to see her siblings, Hubert, and her father. Her mother told her that she could not return to Enbarr or her uncle would be punished.

When Hubert confronted her at the very beginning of the school year, she told Dimitri immediately. She told him that she had sworn Hubert to secrecy and that they could trust him but she did not explain to him their relationship. “I did not want to lose him.”

* * *

(30th Day of Red Wolf Moon, 1180)

Dedue reads the letter from his family over and over again. It’s written in their native Duscurian and it’s from his little sister. After spending time in Fhirdiad with him teaching the peasantry and the nobles how to grow crops and rotate them through the seasons and the years, she returned to their village when he left for the monastery with Dimitri. And now she writes of the troubles that plague the Duscurian countryside.

While it was revealed that Viscount Kleiman was the cause of the attack on the Royal Family, there were those who still suspected the Duscurian people. Dimitri had to intervene in an attack on Dedue and his sister, protecting him from the wrath of some drunk commoners. That was the event where Dimitri earned his loyalty forever. 

There’s trouble brewing there now. Tensions are rising between the people of the former Kleiman territory and the Duscur territory. He knows that he should bring this to Dimitri’s attention but Dimitri has not slept well in months, he can hear his cries in the night from his room. Dedue will ask for leave and head north back to his old village. He will not involve anyone if he can. There are far too many important things that require Dimitri’s attention. This will be the last free day they have before classes resume again. He will have to ask Professor Byleth for some leave on the next free day; he does not want to distract them from their classes. 

He’s advancing well- he picked up his Armored Knight certification a couple of months ago and switched over to Brigand to focus more on his Axe skills. Professor Byleth recommended that he get used to Gauntlets but he is often used as a defensive wall for the Blue Lions; he understands that he will absorb the attacks that his teammates cannot handle. Gauntlets forces him to be more of an attacker than he is comfortable with as he needs to focus on protecting the others. 

But this letter, he cannot ignore it. He needs to protect his family. 

Ashe finds the letter and while he cannot read it, he does ask Dedue questions about it. Like Dimitri, Dedue is an awful liar. He reveals that it’s a letter from his family and Ashe almost puts it back to where he found it. He knows, of all people, how important letters from family are. But Dedue’s hesitance makes him take a second look at it with more questions. 

Dedue reveals the contents of the letter and his concerns. He is an awful liar. He has been protected from the worst of Faerghus’s racism because of his proximity to Dimitri and the King but he knows that out there, it’s been worse for his countrymen.

“We need to tell someone about this, the Professor or Dimitri,” Ashe insists once Dedue finishes telling him. “They would want to know!” Ashe pleads with him, looking up into his eyes.

Dedue shakes his head. “I do not want to trouble them,” Dedue responds, “This does not involve them.” After Remire Village, nerves in the monastery are frayed. They may have been able to protect the village but they were not able to protect everyone there. The villagers that survived the tragedy are grateful, Lady Rhea accepted them with open arms but the memory of the tragedy still lingers in everyone’s mind. His family only needs him to resolve this issue, there is no need to involve anyone else.

“It involves you!” Ashe points out, almost yelling. He breathes, calming himself down. “I haven’t told anyone this but my brother and sister, they wrote to me before Lord Lonato rebelled, telling me that Lord Lonato had been acting strangely. He was meeting with men from the Western Church. I thought nothing of it; I brushed it off and ignored their concerns.” He shivers, shaking his head, worriedly. “Everyone will care because it involves you Dedue. Please bring it up to Prince Dimitri, or at least the professor.” Tears well up in the corner of his eyes as he speaks to Dedue. This is important to him because he does not want Dedue to go through the same pain he did; the pain of not being there when Lord Lonato needed him.

So with very little fanfare, Dedue brings it up to Professor Byleth. El hears wind from it and she understands. If what Hubert was telling her was true and Dimitri’s been sleeping poorly, then Dedue would never want to put even more pressure on Dimitri. That’s another conversation with Dimitri for another day. 

They head north for the former Kleiman territory; they don’t tell King Lambert just yet, Dimitri doesn’t want to bother his father. El sends a small note to Lord Rodrigue; she doesn’t tell anyone but it’s just in case that this turns out to be bigger than it seems, it never hurts to be prepared. 

It’s another trip outside of the monastery, they don’t tell the other classes or the church leaders’ their intentions. At this point, it’s more of a cultural visit to Duscur, or so they explain. Sidenote: they lied. 

The sight they find when they approach the former Kleiman territory is a small group of Duscurians under attack. They come to the aid of them, battling away the bandits seeking to capture them. They know this for a fact because as the bandits flee they leave their things. They find chains and sedatives in their possession. 

“Part of the slave trade?” El murmurs to Ingrid, looking over the supplies. Ingrid crouches down, looking over the metal chains and shackles.

“You think?” Ingrid asks quietly. The journals they found with Mercedes’ unfortunate suitor indicated that in the underground slave trade that spread across Fodlan, it involved minorities, often refugees from Almyra, Dagda, or Brigid. It would not surprise anyone if Duscurians were found to be victims of the same fate. 

“Perhaps,” Professor Byleth nods. They ride further north back to Dedue’s old village, which has thrived now that their men are no longer disappearing to Kleiman’s men. They are introduced to Dedue’s family, to his village. They remember Sylvain and El who visited just that day, taking away Dedue with them for the rest of his life.

They don’t find much in terms of a slave trade existing in the western part of Faerghus but their investigation earns the attention of the Duscur Queen and King Lambert. Alongside with Duke Riegan, they hone in on rumors of the slave trade in their territories. Any letters to the Empire are rebuffed to their disappointment. This is as much as the students can do; they are students and not yet the future leaders of their nation.

* * *

(4th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1180)

“Hey Petra! What’s up?” Caspar asks. He just came from his session of Lance training with Gilbert. Professor Manuela suggested to him that instead of becoming a Warrior that he looks into becoming a Wyvern Rider. It made sense. He didn’t want to become a one-trick pony, you know? 

Petra greets him without her usual cheer. They’ve discussed their unknown shared past to a point where Caspar feels comfortable enough talking to her, just not about that. Linhardt says it’s a rare appearance of him being a craven. Caspar almost punched him for that but he did have a point; He might not be close with his dad but the fact that his dad killed her dad, just makes it hard for him to confront. Petra told him that it wasn’t his fault and that it was in the heat of battle but it was her dad and she must have missed him a lot.

“I am uncertainty,” she pauses and shakes her head. “I am feeling uncertain,” she corrects. “About my path.”

“Feeling uncertain about what?” Caspar presses, they walk over to a bench near the training field. Petra’s an absolute beast with her sword and bow. She’s super fast and super accurate when it comes to shooting and she’s just so quiet in general that her unconfidence is strange, for her at least.

“Ferdinand is concerned for my presence here,” she responds nervously. Caspar nods in understanding. Apparently in the past week the Blue Lions house went on a trip outside of the monastery and found rumors of a slave trade existing in Fodlan. It makes Caspar heated just hearing about it. “Also, I am not sure what certification I should pursue.”

Caspar nods eagerly. “I hear ya on that,” he agrees. “Professor Manuela suggested I go to Wyvern Knight. I was just planning on being a Warrior like my dad but I can’t just focus on Axe skills, I want to learn different things.”

Petra agrees. “I want to grow while at the monastery, it is a good time to learn.” She plays with her hand, small scars littering them as she works through them. “I am familiar with flying,” she explains. “There are many in Brigid who fly on both Wyverns and Pegasus but I have advanced so far with the Sword and the Bow, it is strange to focus on something else.”

Caspar puts his chin on his palm. “You’ll be good if you go train in anything else,” Caspar points out. Petra’s so good at focusing, not like him. He tends to get distracted by any little thing. Lance training is good for him though, it’s pretty straightforward as far as he’s aware.

Petra shakes her head. “I am to become the future Queen of Brigid, it is important that I be excellent so I can rule my country,” she hesitates. “You cannot be telling anyone this Caspar but I want Brigid to become an equal to Adrestia. It is my wish. It does not help that Ferdinand thinks I am a child to be coddled,” she frowns, her brow furrowing. At Caspar’s questioning head tilt, she explains further. “He is thinking that I should be returning to Brigid, just in case.” 

Caspar freezes; he doesn’t pay much attention to Empire politics but he knows after the tragic death of all the Emperor’s children, Ferdinand was named the heir to the throne. His words are not to be taken lightly, regardless of how Ferdinand behaves. Petra could run with those words because while Brigid is a vassal state to the Adrestrian Empire and Petra is a “guest”, she’s more a prisoner than anything. She could go back to Brigid and even if men like his father and the Prime Minister protested, if Ferdinand told her that she could, she technically had that right. This is how Linhardt explains it to him afterwards.

“But you won’t, right?” Caspar asks quickly. “You won’t go back to Brigid.” Given their common history because of their fathers, he would let her go back if she really wanted to, it was the least he could do. But if Petra was caught, trying to go back, it would be really bad for her and her country.

Petra nods again. “I am no coward,” Petra responds with fire and confidence. “I will not flee just to protect myself, I will protect those who cannot protect themselves.”

Caspar grins wildly and thumps his chest. “Hell yeah!” Caspar yells. “You said it Petra.” Petra grins proudly and Caspar offers a fist bump which Petra takes eagerly.

* * *

(7th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1180)

El heads into the training room where Felix, Dedue, and Dimitri are training. An odd combination that’s probably going to get worse when she brings the news. “You might want to hide,” El announces when they look at her. “Professor Byleth is looking for a participant for the White Heron Cup,” she says with a scowl. She had a discussion with the professor about how much she did not want to participate in the White Heron Cup, a very long discussion.

“The White Heron Cup?” Dimitri asks, curiously. He sheaths his sword, looks like he was getting some practice with Felix. If he’s continuing with his Lord training as he said he would, it certainly explains their group.

Dedue tilts his head in thought, his green eyes contemplating. “Yes, this is organized by Alois, correct? He mentioned it during our training.” At their looks, he further explains. “It seems that this is a yearly event where a student from each house competes in a dance competition.” They all grimace. El may be learning a dance routine for the music performance but she isn’t learning it willingly. 

“They’re going around asking if anyone wants to participate first,” El elaborates for them. “But if no one volunteers, then they’re going to choose someone who wants to do it.” She’s already refused but she’s just saying, the Professor will probably choose a girl and she’s already had words with Ingrid on the ridiculousness of it all. 

Felix shakes his head. “I don’t think so,” he says flatly. “Someone from our house will volunteer, they have to.” He looks almost manic at the idea. It’s a nice thought about Felix participating in the competition but he might maim someone if he does.

“Who’s going to volunteer?” El retorts sharply. “I’ve already said no and I had to rescue Ingrid from Mercedes and Annette earlier so she’s already traumatized for the day. I mean,” she says with a frown, a thought dawning in her mind. She looks at Felix, conspiratorially, “Do you think we could sucker Sylvain into it?” They’re friends, the both of them, but she’s not above throwing Sylvain under a carriage for her own sanity.

Felix perks at the idea. “That’s a thought.” He agrees, contemplating the thought. “Maybe if we can’t find anyone else.” Felix thinks for a moment before agreeing. 

El nods, “Let me go make sure that Sylvain’s the last person from our class the professor talks to.” She spins, leaving the training field. She had magic training earlier with Dorothea, Annette, and Mercedes, she doesn’t plan on doing training anymore today. Sylvain’s probably at the village, flirting with some girl at the pub. It’ll be easy to stall him.

“Wait,” Dimitri’s voice stops her in her tracks. “You can’t be seriously thinking of tricking Sylvain,” he says helplessly, looking between the two of them. Dedue remains silent but it seems that he’s thinking the same thing- no one here wants to be part of the White Heron Cup. “You shouldn’t be manipulating him like that.”

El and Felix share a look, “I’d rather it be him than us,” El retorts, flipping her hair behind her. Truly, she wasn’t above sacrificing Sylvain for the greater good. She would be sane and Felix wouldn’t kill anyone. It would be worth it.

“It’s certainly a sacrifice I’m willing to make,” Felix agrees, nodding. El leaves in search of Sylvain, leaving them behind.

* * *

(7th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1180)

Of course Lysithea isn’t allowed to test Dark Spikes on horses or Cavaliers. It would make Marianne upset and no one was willing to volunteer. It’s Dark Magic that she uses and it’s dangerous. So when Cyril touches her on the shoulder, she’s not responsible for the broken water barrel that she destroys. 

Cyril jerks and raises his hands. “Sorry!” He apologizes, loudly. He didn’t find her in the library so he figured he’d find her here. He was right but he wasn’t expecting to see Lysithea destroying the dummies so easily. It amazes him sometimes, the amount of raw power she has. It’s not the same kind of strength that most would consider important, like the ability to move logs or books but it’s still amazing. 

Lysithea brushes back a lock of white hair framing her face. She’s been launching consecutive Dark Spikes for at least ten minutes and she’s going to be running out of magic soon so it’s about time for a break. “What’s up?” She would go get a cup of water but she destroyed the water barrel. She’ll have to replace that.

“Just wanted to say thank you,” Cyril responds, backing up a little. “For saving me from the Death Knight.” He was caught off guard when he was with Professor Byleth and Lysithea. He had heard tales about the Death Knight; the rumors were that Jeritza was the Death Knight, which wouldn’t be a surprise. Jeritza was strong, he was powerful.

He didn’t think Jeritza was that scary but the way the Death Knight didn’t even blink when he sliced Cyril up on his way to the Professor was unnerving. He heard that the Death Knight wasn’t even able to get close to the Professor, that Lysithea had blown him up before he could take another step.

Lysithea frowns. “Why are you thanking me? Anyone would have done that. If I was better, the Death Knight would be dead.” Such chilling words coming out of her mouth. Cyril knew on the battlefield that mercy meant you were dead. But to see Lysithea being so battle hardened at their age, it made him wish that he joined the class earlier. 

He stretches, feeling the scar tissue around the wound on his arm flex. Manuela said that it would heal in no time with minimal scarring and so far she was right. “Just wanted to say thanks,” he grins cheerily. “Can I bug you later about Hanneman’s assignment? I just have a couple of questions.”

Lysithea nods and turns back to the target, analyzing the runes in her hand. “I’ll go get another water barrel, then.” Cyril states, he should get started on his chores. Lady Rhea may have some of the surviving villagers doing some chores around the monastery, they offered, but he still needed to earn his keep. “See you around Lysithea.”

She murmurs a response back and another Dark spell starts forming in her hands. Hilda waltzes in with a frown on her face and a letter in hand. There’s been an influx of letters coming into the monastery, mostly from nobles concerned about their offspring and the surprising amount of danger this school year. 

He still thinks that she’s incredibly lazy but she’s not as bad as he thought she was. It doesn’t mean that he’s going to let her rope him in some crazy scheme though. But she does. 

“Cyril!” Her face brightens, meeting his face. “Just a logical person I was looking for, can I get some advice from you?” She beams at him, looking down at him. She holds the letter behind her back, smiling brightly.

He hesitates, “Just some advice? I don’t need to do anything for you?” He’s seen Hilda at work, she ropes people in by making it seem like they’re doing a favor for themselves when it’s actually for her.

Hilda pouts, “Come on Cyril, please?” She begs. Lysithea comes around, looking at the two of them. She stands next to Cyril, cutting her practice short. Lysithea doesn’t trust Hilda either it seems. 

“Oh, two logical people,” Hilda smiles. “I need you two to talk me out of a bad idea,” she waves the letter in hand. She hands it over to Lysithea; Cyril doesn’t even try to read it. He hasn’t advanced that far in the two months Lysithea has been teaching him. It’s small, rushed handwriting with an elaborate signature at the bottom.

“This is from your brother?” Lysithea says quietly, reading over the letter. Cyril blinks, he knows Hilda’s last name is Von Goneril but he’s not familiar with the major lords of the Alliance territory. 

Hilda nods, “He’s been busy in the west, investigating the slave trade rumors. But there’s been reports that there’s a large Almyran force,” she pauses, glancing at Cyril’s blank face, “getting ready to attack Fodlan’s Throat and he wants me to go out there just in case. They aren’t sure when there will be an attack but he needs me out there, he says.”

“So what’s the problem?” Lysithea asks blankly, handing the letter back to Hilda. It’s best for Hilda to lead instead of them filling in the blanks, it’s kept them from doing her chores for her.

Hilda pouts, “I just, I feel like it’s just a lot of responsibility to ask of me. Holst didn’t even start protecting Fodlan’s throat until he was twenty.” She twirls a pink lock around her finger, “I know I should go but what happens if I mess up?” She says quietly. “What happens if I can’t protect the border properly?”

“What happens if you don’t go?” Cyril asks softly. He knows Fodlan’s Throat, that’s where he was found. He didn’t realize that it was Hilda’s family who protected the border but it certainly explained a lot. 

“Well, there are retainers out there who can protect the border but Holst isn’t comfortable with them taking on that challenge. My dad passed last year so this is the first time that Fodlan’s throat won’t have a Goneril protecting it. If Holst rushes and abandons the investigation, he can make it,” she says with a frown. “But Duke Riegan asked him for a favor so it’s not as if he can just drop it.” Hilda shakes her head, unsurely. 

“I’ll come,” Cyril offers, both girls staring at him, surprised. “I haven’t told anyone this,” he hesitates. “But before Lady Rhea took me in, I was a servant of House Goneril. I want to make sure that there aren’t other kids being hurt like that. I know I won’t be much help but I want to come.”

“Then I’ll come too,” Lysithea nods. “Does it make you feel a little better, that we’re coming?” She gestures to the two of them. They may just be kids but Hilda knows how hard they’ll fight with her. 

Hilda nods, “It does, really. But if we’re going, then we need to tell Professor Hanneman and Claude,” she makes a face. “Ugh, they’re going to have a billion questions.” Clearly she thinks that their questions will be more than what it’s worth.

“What if we get them involved?” Cyril asks, curiously. He’s only been part of their class for two months but Claude’s done his best to encourage unity, as annoying as he is. Lysithea looks deep in thought. 

“I think that might be a good idea,” Lysithea agrees, her pink eyes deep in thought. The Blue Lions house went north earlier this month, so maybe they can go east to Fodlan’s Locket.

By the nature of things, when they arrive at Fodlan’s Locket, it’s under attack. Perfect timing, of course. They beat back the Almyrans attacking the Locket with success, Hilda takes point. She shows where the weakest points of the Locket are to her classmates and where they need to focus. She’ll have to bring up the renovations needed to Holst. 

If there are weak points in Fodlan’s Locket, it won’t bode well for their family. It’s a success for her and Holst raves about her in the next meeting of the Five Great Lords. Hilda writes back how important it was for her to have the support of her classmates. She wouldn’t have been able to do it without them. 

* * *

(14th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1180)

Annette peels herself off the floor, sweaty and exhausted. Dorothea has not let up on the music practices, which means they’ve been here for three hours. Even Petra is sitting down, tired. But their performance is in eleven days, which means additional pressure. They took care of costumes the last free day and right now they’re being altered. 

The costumes are just some of Hilda’s old clothes that she brought back from House Goneril when her class went to go protect the border earlier this month. She really does have a large amount of clothes. 

Dorothea frowns once she finishes her solo. Being the only trained professional of the group, she is hard on them but she’s much harder on herself. Her role as Katherine Parr means that she’s the last wife of the King. Her role in the performance means that she’s the last to sing before they finish their performance with a group song. She ties their performance together and in the story, she’s the one who brings them all together and makes them realize that they should not be fighting amongst her. If they don’t care by the end of her song, she explained, then the performance has failed.

El nudges her leg with a boot. “You should take a break,” she suggests, sitting down in a chair. El is sweaty too, making Annette feel a little better.

“You’re perfect, there aren’t many changes you can make. Professor Manuela will be proud of us.” Professor Manuela has taken a step back from their practices especially after the incident with Jeritza.

She said that by far their group was the one who took it most seriously, to which Hilda said wasn’t surprising, given who was leading them. And she was right, Annette was able to get some semi-formal training from Professor Manuela and Dorothea for her singing and hopefully, it’ll make Felix stop teasing her so much. 

“I have to go,” Annette says apologetically, rising to her knees. “I have dance lessons with Professor Byleth for the White Heron Cup in an hour.” El nods and claps her hands. 

“I think we’re in a good spot to dismiss,” El announces proudly. “We’ll do costume fittings next week and go through a quick run down in our costumes just to make sure the fit is comfortable and call it a day. Good work everybody.” She beams and Annette goes down the dining hall with Mercedes, exhausted. 

Mercedes is tired as well and they’ve only just started patching up their friendship after Annette blasted that bandit that tried to rob them. It made for some awkward singing practices, that’s for sure until Dorothea cornered Mercedes and told her to fix it. 

“I do hope everything will be alright,” Mercedes murmurs. Dorothea and El stayed behind for another rundown of their songs. El plays the flighty fifth wife who realizes that men have only ever wanted her for her body. It’s kind of a sad tale if she thought about it and El has to really sell being a naive, silly girl because she’s not any of those qualities. 

Annette isn’t too fond of her character, the second wife until El brought up the literature showing how serious and smart her character was. She just got the short end of the stick when it came to her song but it’s a fun song. She’s going to do her best to make Professor Manuela and Dorothea proud with it. “I think it will be,” Annette answers. “We’ve put so much work into it, I’m sure everyone will like it. At least, we’ll have a good time.”

“You were selected for the White Heron Cup?” Mercedes asks softly as they pass through the main hall, walking in step. Her dance practice for the White Heron Cup and the musical have made her more graceful, or at least she hopes. 

Annette nods, “Professor Byleth asked and I said yes if no one else was volunteering. They checked with the others and it seems that I was the only one.” The others were really excited about Annette being the house competitor and she had an inkling that it was because they didn’t want to be competing themselves. 

That was fine, Alois said it was just a fun competition and that no one should take them too seriously. Dorothea was the Black Eagles competitor and that meant some pretty stiff competition. She wasn’t sure who was volunteering for the Golden Deer House but they had good options as well. Dorothea was Dorothea, of course, and that meant that she’d be taking it seriously too. 

“I’m just going to have fun with it,” she smiles brightly. She knows the others won’t care win or lose. They never have.

* * *

(16th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1180)

Ingrid stared down at Glenn’s letter in horror. It was just a winter ball, there was no reason why he had to come down for it. She didn’t come to the monastery when he had his winter ball, why did he have to come to hers?

She rushes for El’s room for advice. El is a mix between her and Hilda. El takes care of her appearance, she spends an ungodly amount of time brushing out her hair but she doesn’t wear make-up like some of the girls at the monastery do. She brings this letter to anyone else in their class, save for Annette, they’re just going to stare at her. 

It’s just after the dining hall closes after the evening so she knows El is in her room. She and Dimitri have been spending a little time in the library researching but they won’t say what. Ingrid thinks it’s to avoid Monica, the red-haired girl that was saved with Flayn. She likes to spend a lot of time trailing after El for some reason. The other students have already noticed too.

El’s in bed, a book sitting on her knees. When Ingrid slams the door open, El looks over and stares at Ingrid’s flustered face. “Ingrid, is everything ok?”

Ingrid hands the letter over and sits on El’s bed in silence as El skims over the letter. “Glenn’s visiting again? That’ll be nice,” El remarks after reading over the letter. She hands the letter over to Ingrid. “What’s the problem?” Ingrid sits red-faced and silent. 

“I wasn’t planning on looking nice,” Ingrid confesses, “I don’t have an outfit planned, nothing.” She feels weird, talking about her appearance like this. She knows that she doesn’t put that much care into it, her hair is constantly in a loose or messy braid and her uniform is either always slightly dirty or ripped. She’s never had to care.

El slides her legs from underneath the blanket, encouraging her to sit on the bed with her. “So? Do you want a dress for the winter ball?” She asks curiously. Knowing El, she’s probably had her outfit figured for weeks. She’s never said much of it but she knows that El puts a lot of pressure on herself, making sure that her appearance matches one required of the prince’s fiancee.

“I feel like I should,” Ingrid admits. “It’s a fancy event and I know I should look nice-,” El gets out of bed, putting her boots back on. “Wait, where are you going?”

El takes her by the hand explaining, “There’s not enough time to get a dress made for you by the dressmaker, so we’re going to the next best thing.” They end up in front of Hilda’s room and Ingrid feels like running away.

El thumps Hilda’s door, once then twice. “Hilda! Open up, we’ve got an emergency.” She leans against the door frame, waiting for the pink haired girl to open the door.

She does and she does so groggily. “If Dorothea’s called a last minute practice, I’m going to throw something,” she complains. Hilda’s thrown her hair in a loose braid, a different hairstyle than her usual high pigtails. “Ingrid? What did Claude do?” She says immediately with suspicion. Ingrid might have lectured Claude once or twice about the state of his room. Whenever she walks past it, it’s always a complete nightmare.

"Nothing,” El replies. “We just need a favor.” She nods at the door, “Okay if we come in?” She asks expectantly.

Hilda shrugs, “Might as well.” She opens the door even further, revealing a mess of a room. There’s clothes thrown everywhere and her desk is absolutely cluttered with small trinkets.

Ingrid bites back a response, they’ve gone to Hilda for a favor, it wouldn’t help anyone if she insulted her right now. Hilda plops herself down on her bed. “So what’s the issue? Oh, El, your dress came back from the tailor. You should probably try it on to make sure it fits and stuff.” She digs a small red dress out of the pile of clothing and hands it to the brunette girl. “Here’s the lace attachment for later.” She hands a small lacy sleeves over. “She’s going to look amazing,” Hilda gushes. “They all are.”

“Thanks, it’s your clothes after all. Of course, we’ll look amazing,” El responds, draping it over her arm. “Ingrid needs a dress, she has a surprise visitor for the ball and wants to look nice for him,” she explains quickly, not letting Ingrid get a word in.

“Oh, your fiance is coming down? Glenn, right?” Hilda asks, nodding. “What were you planning on to wear to the ball before?” She tosses her thick pink braid behind her shoulder.

“I was just planning on wearing my uniform,” Ingrid confesses, nervously. She would wear her hair down but that was it. Hilda stares, struggling to form words. 

El claps her hands. “We can discuss that later,” she says pointedly before Hilda can gear herself up for a rant. “Dress, for Ingrid, yes?” She stands in front of Ingrid, facing Hilda. 

“So many words, so little time.” Hilda mutters to herself. She flicks her hands up, “Stand, please.” She commands. Ingrid stands and Hilda circles her.

“Let’s go with some blue, shall we? It’ll match her eyes.” She mutters to herself. “Why me exactly?” She asks quickly. “She’s a bit taller than me, it’ll be hard to find something that fits,” she complains, a small whine entering her voice. 

El scoffs, “If you could find a dress for Dorothea, Petra, and Mercedes, then you can find a dress for Ingrid.” She stands up as well, looking Ingrid in the eyes. “Were you planning on wearing make-up?” She asks quietly to her childhood friend.

Ingrid shakes her head, the experience she had at Annette and Mercedes’ hands earlier this month was traumatizing enough. “Do you think I should though?” Glenn’s never said anything about her appearance but this is a formal event, he might have expectations for her.

“Nah,” Hilda shakes her head. “You’ve got really nice skin, Ingrid, you shouldn’t wear make-up. I mean, if you want to, we could probably go with just some light make-up, a little mascara and lipstick but we don’t have to go crazy with it.” She pauses, choosing her words carefully. “If your fiance is anything like Felix,” and she says this with a scowl. Felix hasn’t made himself popular with the girls in the three houses. “Then I don’t think he’ll care very much at all. But I look forward to making his jaw drop.”

(20th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1180)

Dimitri insisted on a low-key affair for his birthday. It was his 18th birthday, marking him of an age that he could inherit the throne. He wouldn’t, not for many years; Lambert didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on his son but things out of his control would disregard that anyways. They don’t do presents for him but Ashe and Dedue spend the day making his favorite dishes. 

El disregards the no-presents comment as she is Dimitri’s fiancee. She requests a solid gold ring for him that he can wear without fear of damaging it. Mercedes has made a comment to her about the numerous sewing needles that he’s destroyed. Dimitri wears it underneath his gloves to make sure he doesn’t scratch it when fighting.

* * *

(21st Day of Ethereal Moon, 1180)

Thankfully Annette volunteers for the White Heron Competition. No one had to throw Sylvain under the carriage for their own self-preservation but there’s more trouble on the horizon. There’s a rising bandit problem in the Fraldarius territory and Glenn’s coming down to the monastery again to escort Ingrid to the ball. Felix is annoyed. His brother’s been visiting far too often for his taste and Dorothea laughs at him every time she sees him. El’s been giving her far too much ammo lately. 

Glenn’s gotten strong enough with his off arm that he can take down bandits with ease but Ingrid wants to go up and make sure that he’s alright when he comes down. After she’s had her initial panic attack of him being down there for the ball. She even went to Hilda for dress advice, Hilda!

She pushes him to suggest to the Professor that they should go up to Fraldarius territory and take care of the bandits there. If they get to escort Glenn down, it’s a win win situation. For Ingrid at least. 

When Dimitri and El hear that they’re going up to Fraldiarus territory, they’re beyond excited. He resists the urge to snap at the Boar because he knows El will snap back at him in response. 

Once they approach his father’s castle, he gets grumpier and grumpier. Not even Sylvain or Annette can coax him out of his bad mood. He ignores his father when they arrive, much to his disappointment. Not even El can get him to greet his father.

As they head back to the monastery with Glenn in tow, they’re predictably attacked by bandits. They could not resist the urge to attack young people, who despite being well-armed, look rich. It’s not even a challenge at this point. He doesn’t even know why Ingrid asked if their entire class should go up to Fraldarius territory. Glenn doesn’t need protection, he never has. 

But when Glenn reveals that he has their family’s Heroes Relic, the Aegis Shield. It’s not for Glenn’s use, he doesn’t have the Crest of Fraldarius, which means it’s for him. Felix knows what this means for him and his father. He writes a letter to his father, the first in months.

* * *

(25th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1180)

The final song ends and the girls are breathless from their performance. They spent several hours over the course of many months and now it was finally over. No more 6am practices for them. Done in the course of 45 minutes. With Annette in tow, El saunters over to where the Blue Lions were sitting, a big grin on her face. The only people able to look them in the eyes are surprisngly Sylvain and Glenn. Dimitri’s eyes are on her thighs where her tight red dress stretches the most.

It’s a loan from Hilda, whose wardrobe could take up an entire room by herself. Annette’s wearing a teal dress, not as tight nor as short as El’s, she wasn’t as comfortable showing that much skin. Felix won’t look at her either as her hair is done into two short high halfway buns. El has hers in a high ponytail with the end dyed hot pink, Dorothea promised that in a few washes, it would wash out. El shoves her dress back down as it rode up in the final song- Dorothea and Hilda spent a better part of an hour convincing her that it would bring out her pale skin. But the way Dimitri is avoiding her eyes makes it worth it. 

“What did you think?” Annette chirps cheerfully, accepting a glass of water from Ashe, who doesn’t look at her either, handing it wordlessly. 

“It was really good,” Sylvain compliments effortlessly. “I can see how much effort you put in,” his eyes are drawn towards Dorothea who’s talking to Ferdinand and Petra. 

“So who were your characters?” Glenn asks curiously, speaking to them both. Annette played the flighty second wife while El was the naive fifth wife. They were cousins and both met their end by beheading. Annette takes the lead, telling the story of the doomed six wives. She researched it heavily, reading biography after biography of the wives, even poor Katherine Howard, who was only 19 when she died. Anne Boleyn had been a leading reformer who eventually lost her head when background forces plotted her demise. 

There were nine songs in the play but they surely weren’t enough to tell the whole story. But it was all in good fun- a play from Enbarr that Professor Manuela got her hands on. El waltzes her way over to Dimitri, who was sitting near the back. “Did you like it?” El asks, leaning on the high table. The dress she’s wearing is sleeveless and she doesn’t have her customary black tights either. It’s a lot of skin and Dimitri won’t stop staring.

Dimitri clears his throat, “I did.” Their eyes meet and his gaze darts away quickly. “I can see why you were so busy preparing. It was an excellent performance.” El flutters her eyelashes at him, teasingly, they were enhanced by the light mascara that Dorothea used for her and she’s going to enjoy this as much as she can. She can see the thumbs up Dorothea gives her encouragingly. 

Feeling emboldened, El bumps her hips with Dimitri’s leaning against him, her shoulder meeting his sides. He stiffens, looking away from her. He chokes, trying to step away.

“Dimitri,” El coos, “Why won’t you look at me?” She smiles broadly. At the beginning of the school year, she would have never done this. But she’s spent far too much time with Dorothea and Hilda to be the same person.

“I-do you want to sit down?” Dimitri looks down, noticing her heels. She had wanted to wear her normal black boots for the performance but Dorothea had mentioned that with her height, in order to match, she would have to wear higher heels. El threw back that Annette and Hilda were even shorter than her. Dorothea said that they would have to wear heels as well. They spent a week teaching Annette how to walk properly in them. The dancing took even longer.

He offers his elbow to her and she takes it gratefully. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, her feet were beginning to ache. Wine?” He offers her a small goblet of wine, which El sips on. They sit as they watch Dorothea hold court over the rest of their friends. She was the stand out performer and probably the reason why they were taken seriously. 

They just stay there, chatting quietly. She swings her legs over Dimitri’s lap comfortingly, taking the pressure off her feet. Dimitri stiffens and then relaxes, massaging her calves. Dancing in heels was a nightmare, her feet felt pinched in the shoes she was wearing. Dorothea had insisted on higher heels for her instead of the usual one-inch thick heeled boots she wore, they offered way more support.

“El! Come on!” Dorothea has the other girls gathered up near the center of the tables as she waves her over.

El sighs and stands up, adjusting her dress down her thighs. They rode up while they were in Dimitri’s lap. Dimitri watches the movement, gulping slightly. “What now?”

“We have to go change,” Hilda tosses her hair behind her. “I’m not wearing this while dancing.” Hilda’s wearing a gold dress and thigh high boots, indicating her status as royalty before she was married and the fact that she was the king’s first wife. 

For the actual ball, Hilda chose a pink dress with light yellow sides and embroidery across the middle, stitched in gold string. It’ll end a little below her knees and she’ll look amazing in it as usual.

El puts down the wine cup next to the table, pulling her hands away from Dimitri. “I have to go,” she says apologetically. “Be back shortly.” She walks off, her heeled boots clicking against the floor. She’ll be wearing the same dress but she has bustles underneath that’ll transform her dress from being mid thigh to just above the knee. Katherine Howard had to wear a short dress it seems. There’s also a lace attachment that should cover her shoulders once she gets it on.

Dorothea links her arm in with El’s and they go off into the night, giggling. She can feel Dimitri’s stare as she leaves and she twirls and winks at him. He can’t see that she’s red all the way from here.

It’s chaos after that, she helps Hilda zip into her dress and pulls on the lace attachment for herself. She puts down her hair and Dorothea helps her put it in a more elaborate half updo with braids interlocking in her hair. They try not to muss their makeup; she chose to go with light makeup that accentuated her eyes.

When they get back, the food is ready and the dancing will commence afterwards. The food is good; the kitchens seem to have gone into overdrive this past week. People were coming in and out of the monastery, merchants bringing in new wares and products every day. A lot of money changed hands this month.

The three house leaders will open the floor and El will dance with Dimitri as usual. She hasn’t talked about it with Dimitri but she expects that will be her only dance of the night with him. He still doesn’t like dancing much. He’s stopped stepping on her toes at least.

The opening dance is a simple waltz, she almost brushes backs with Ferdinand and Claude during it and Dimitri just pulls her slightly closer with a slight smile. It’s quick and over and they sit back down and El takes this time to rest a bit. She sneaks a couple of cookies while they sit, Mercedes worked in the kitchen some time this week, she can tell.

Dimitri looks uncomfortable, as he usually does in formal events. Faerghus never did balls and plays like the Empire, she remembers having attended at least more than a dozen at the age of nine, usually her siblings’ birthday. There probably won’t be more dancing for Dimitri, but she doesn’t mind. Sylvain pulls her out to dance at least twice, as do Ferdinand and Claude. She dances with the rest of the girls and even sneaks in a dance with Professor Byleth before they’re whisked away by the other students.

She needs a minute to compose herself to stop flushing red. After that dance, she sees Dimitri walk off and she follows him, curious as to where he’s going. She trails after him, shivering slightly in the winter air.

She finds him just outside of the ballroom, sitting in the darkness. “Dimitri?” She asks softly, coming up to him. She sits down next to him. “You okay?” She links her hand into his, enjoying the warmth of his touch.

He nods, leaning against her, still silent. They just sit there, enjoying the night air. After a few minutes, El stands up. “Come on, I’ve got an idea,” she grins. Her mind immediately goes to the Goddess Tower. It’s still early in the night and there shouldn’t be too many people there.

She leads him all the way there and they find the Goddess Tower unlocked. “El?” Dimitri asks, worry in his voice. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” El just grins and leads him up the stairs.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” El teases, bringing him up. There’s a small balcony on the Goddess Tower, usually locked up. It’s technically still off limits for students but during the winter ball, it’s tradition for romantic couples to come. There’s a legend about it after all. Dimitri shakes his head.

They sit on the edge of the balcony, feeling the winter breeze. El resists the urge to shiver, Dimitri will tease her about it. Even after all her time in Faerghus, she still hates the cold. They continue to sit in silence.

“What makes the Goddess Tower so special?” Dimitri asks quietly. “Sylvain was talking about it but didn’t explain much.” His blue eyes watch her carefully as they lean against each other.

El turns and faces him. “There’s a legend about, it’s about twenty years old now,” she explains her voice low. “Almost twenty years ago, the Emperor at the time came to the monastery and fell in love with a student, at first sight. They got married and now it’s believed that if you come up here with your lover, you’re going to last forever,” she says with a laugh. 

“Was that your intention with us?” Dimitri questions, pulling El closer to him. She appreciates it, the warmth that emanates from him helps her from shivering in the cold. They sit, shoulders and thighs pressed to each other.

El laughs. “Something like that.” They cuddle even closer, hearing the music get louder from the ballroom hall. “The story isn’t true of course, as all romantic tales seem to be.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because that couple was my parents,” El explains. Dimitri turns and stares at her. She hasn’t brought up Patricia since the Tragedy of Kleiman. No one has really, King Lambert’s hidden queen turned into a ghost queen. “My father had just graduated from the Officer’s Academy almost ten years earlier and he did meet my mother up at the Goddess Tower, but they didn’t get married and they might have been in love but that didn’t last.” El hasn’t asked but neither has King Lambert explained how her mother ended up in the Kingdom and his consort. 

She could believe that her mother and father were in real love but she couldn’t deny the fact that her mother had died in Faerghus and not in Adrestia.

“El- I,” Dimitri stammers and El stands up abruptly, pulling her hand away from Dimitri’s.

“Dance with me, please?”

* * *

(26th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1180)

Dorothea thinks it’s pretty cruel to schedule a mission right after a night of dancing but the reports of Black Beasts within monastery grounds calls for it. They leave for the ruined chapel quickly, picking up speed once it’s reported that there are students there as well. 

She finds herself in pace with El who disappeared early last night with Dimitri. She wears a high ponytail, exposing her slim white neck. “You left early,” Dorothea remarks to El who turns and smiles at her. She played the part of the fifth queen extremely well, playing a naive young girl who was swallowed up by the men around her. “New hairstyle?” She notes, eyeing the strands of hair that El usually ties from her face with her purple ribbons are now braided, leading to her ponytail.

“Dimitri was tired,” she explains quickly. “As was I.” She avoids Dorothea’s piercing gaze, pretending to focus on the sharpness of her hand axe. “And yes,” she reaches a hand for her hair. “I wanted to try something new.”

Dorothea arches a slim brow, “This doesn’t have to do with….” she trails off, reaching a hand out to El’s neck, lowering the collar just a smidge. She smirks, revealing dark hickeys. El jerks back and covers her neck, her face and her neck flushing an incredibly bright red. “I thought so.” Dorothea muses teasingly. Dimitri screams practically repressed but she saw his face when El was unveiled in her dress. He liked what he saw.

“Nothing- nothing happened,” El stammers quickly. It’s nice to catch El off her toes, she’s usually so composed. She looks around, making sure no one is listening. “We just kissed,” she whispers. And then some but El didn’t seem to realize what the numerous marks on her neck meant for them. Dimitri was a marker. Dorothea usually didn’t like those kinds of men, it just meant more effort to cover the traces of them on her body.

“Is that it?” Dorothea teases with a smile. She wouldn’t be surprised if that was just it, as disappointing as it sounds. Jumping from a first kiss to having sex is a big step, especially for nobles like El and Dimitri.

“We went up to the Goddess Tower and then to my room. I think the events of the past couple of months have been a lot for him and me,” El explains softly. “Dorothea, what does it mean if he gave me a dagger?” El asks, a curious look on her face. Dorothea notes a new dagger, fastened to El’s belt. Dorothea doesn’t have time to answer, they’re getting close to the abandoned chapel. They’ll have to stop chatting and get focused.

Jeralt leads the way of their three houses and when they hear the intimidating roar of the Black Beasts, they retreat into the bushes. If they’re lucky, this won’t be anything like the Red Canyon, she hopes. She says her goodbyes to El as they separate into their house. With the Black Beasts, they separate into groups of four. They are more than familiar with each other and their fighting styles and strengths and weaknesses. However, there are students hiding in the chapel from the Black Beasts so they have to act quickly.

The students there are not members of the Officer’s Academy and are unarmed, so they’re terrified. But her classmates are more than prepared and well-trained. They dismiss the Black Beasts quickly and easily as the students flee back to the monastery with the Knights of Seiros covering them. Dorothea wouldn’t have called it an easy mission but it’s a far cry from the horrors they faced at Remire Village. A nice break from all the chaos of the past couple of months.

The last student in the far back is Monica von Ochs who Dorothea thought had gone home for the past couple of weeks.

The mood of the students is festive as Monica who stays in the back with Jeralt, Professor Byleth and a couple of other students are escorted back with the monastery. That mood quickly shifts when Monica stabs Jeralt with a fierce looking dagger. 

The famed Knight slumps and falls as Professor Byleth whipped out the Sword of the Creator, almost striking Monica down but a new figure who looks similar to Solon, overly large white forehead and veins pulsing through his head stops Professor Byleth’s strike. “You must survive,” he utters when Monica remarks about his appearance. “You are needed for the future.” They disappear in the flash of light.

Professor Byleth runs to their father’s side as the rain begins to pour from the skies with El running close behind. El runs a Heal spell against Jeralt’s wound, closing her eyes, trying to push as much Faith magic as she can through Jeralt. But the wound, the dagger, it was made of dark magic and there’s nothing she can do. She looks Professor Byleth in the eyes and shakes her head, sadly. 

El backs up to leave Professor Byleth in their grief. This is a moment for father and child. 


	16. Part II Chapter XI

* * *

(27th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1180)

Professor Byleth carries the body of Jeralt all the way back to the monastery, ignoring any offers of help. There are no words of comfort for them. They’ve lost their father and right now, everyone is in shock. Everyone had thought Jeralt was immortal, it certainly felt that way. He had led the Knights of Seiros for years and a mercenary clan for almost two decades. Jeralt wasn’t supposed to die then, not for a long time. 

They bury him quickly, next to his wife in the monastery’s graveyard. They leave Professor Byleth there, kneeling between the two graves of their parents, reunited in death. It continues to pour rain. 

The other professors let the students have the rest of the week off, touched by Professor Byleth’s grief and the loss of one of their colleagues. The students quickly organize themselves into keeping vigil over Professor Byleth, bringing them food or water in cycles. They mourn, out of sight of Professor Byleth, the understanding that their pain will never rival Professor Byleth. The rain continues on. 

The collective grief for Jeralt swallows the monastery and life stops.

* * *

(28th Day of Ethereal Moon,, 1180)

Sylvain wakes up early to get Reason Magic training in. Jeralt had recommended it to him after Professor Byleth started learning Faith and Reason Magic from the other professors. He had said that diversity in skills would save his life. It didn’t seem to save Jeralt’s life. 

He heads to the training hall and Felix is already there, swinging his sword in the morning dark. Felix barely glances at him, continuing to swing his sword. Fair enough, Sylvain reveals the Lance of Ruin. He still hasn’t used it properly in the battlefield. The situation never seems serious enough to use, not like in the north against Sreng.

El promised that she’d wake up to help him with Reason magic training but he saw her slip into Dimitri’s room last night and figures that she won’t be up for a couple of hours. He didn’t even see Jeralt fall, he was far in the back with Felix, Annette, and Mercedes and by the time they regrouped, Jeralt was on the ground, dead. It hurt, seeing your heroes fall. His first was Glenn and King Lambert, both of whom almost died at the Tragedy of Kleiman. Now it was Jeralt, who died in their child’s arms. Miklan had never been a hero to him. Maybe when he was younger but when his fucking Crest manifested, that was over quickly.

Seteth taught him and Ferdinand a new combat art and he needs to master it. Said combat art will grant him mastery over the lance skills and finally, Sylvain will feel prepared to approach other styles of combat. He may have teased Annette all those months ago, but it was empowering being able to solve such a hard question that even Annette, the magical prodigy, was unable to solve. 

When El approached him about teaching him Reason magic, he hesitated. He kept himself pigeon-holed in strictly a physical attacker but El prodded him into learning other things. 

He attended Reason seminars here and there with Professor Hanneman, mostly using that time to flirt with Dorothea and Mercedes behind El’s back. But maybe, she had a point. 

After an hour of practice, he’s dripping sweat. He’s focused most of the time on that combat art Seteth taught him but it’s been eluding him. He lifts his shirt, to wipe his forehead and catches Felix staring at him. “What?”

Felix jerks his head away, muttering something under his breath. His cheeks are slightly flushed red from exhaustion. He’s been in a sour mood since Glenn’s been in town. Despite the overwhelming grief in the monastery, Glenn had to return to Fraldarius territory. 

Ingrid would never ask him to stay, just to comfort her, it wasn’t her style. But the sadness overwhelms the monastery, choking everyone’s breath. It felt like when King Lambert was injured in the Tragedy of Kleiman, the entire castle- the entire country was terrified and hurting.

Sylvain shakes his head and walks over to get some water. An hour in and he’s pretty tired. He usually has a private session with Jeralt scheduled today but that clearly isn’t happening. There wasn’t anyone like Jeralt, Sylvain mused. There would be no one like Jeralt.

“Sylvain,” Felix clears his throat, silent standing next to him. He chokes, in mid sip of water. Sylvain hacks, coughing to get the water out of the wrong system. Felix’s too quiet sometimes. 

“Yeah?” He rasps out, his voice, harsh and sore. He waits for Felix to speak, giving him a few moments. Felix isn’t the type to initiate conversation and Sylvain will give him time as usual.

“You remember that promise we made when we were kids?” Felix blurts out quickly, looking down at the floor.

He does. “Yeah,” Sylvain nods. “What about it?” He wipes more sweat off his forehead, pushing back his hair. There were a lot of things about them when they were kids that weren't the same. But he would remember for Felix.

Felix waits and then nods, “Just want to make sure you don’t forget about it.” Sylvain turns to look at Felix but he’s already stalked off, sword in hand. He doesn’t follow, when Felix is in those moods, it’s best to give him space. 

Another half hour of training, El and Annette walk, blurry and puffy eyed. Annette’s there to help demonstrate some spells for Sylvain and to give in-depth explanations that go beyond El’s understanding. Felix sticks around despite the training floor getting a little crowded. 

* * *

(1st Day of Guardian Moon, 1181)

Bernadetta takes a deep breath, hesitates and takes the first step out of her door. Captain Jeralt was one of the bravest men she knew and that didn’t protect him from getting-, from getting -killed. She hid in her room for a couple of days, not even leaving for food and only leaving to go to the bathroom. Raphael kept her fed by bringing her favorite foods and teas. He really was nice, way nicer than Bernadetta was or deserved.

It’s early in the morning and she’s trying to gather up her courage before she loses her resolve. It’s worth it though, showing her gratitude to Captain Jeralt and showing Professor Byleth that they are not alone in their mourning. It was just so sad; the mission had gone so well, the students they rescued were able to run back to the monastery and there weren’t any casualties. 

She suppresses a shiver; Monica was terrifying though. She was terrifyingly cheerful despite what she endured but perhaps that was what made her so strange. She had spent almost a year in the basement in the Death Knight’s hands and she made it as if she went through a stroll in the garden. 

The Von Ochs territory was on the western side of Adrestia. When Monica disappeared, it hadn’t made too big of a scandal amongst the noble families. Von Ochs was a less important noble. When her father forced her to have dinner with him, he dominated the conversation, talking about the other nobles he worked with. Von Ochs was not a name that ever came up. But he did mention a girl going missing last year. He didn’t seem very sorry about it. Bernadetta thought it was a sign of what he was going to do to her. 

She’s thought about leaving flowers on Captain Jeralt’s grave; he gave her some advice about pursuing a certification towards a Bow Knight. But he didn’t pressure her, just giving her advice on how she might improve as a soldier. She appreciated it from him. Maybe it was because he had Professor Byleth as a child but he wasn’t looking for a reaction from her, just gave his advice and walked away. She didn’t even have time to react to him speaking to her.

So she wants to gather flowers for Captain Jeralt’s grave, especially since Professor Byleth loves flowers themselves. She makes her way quickly to the greenhouse, praying that it’s empty. But it’s not, both Ashe and Dedue are there as well. She knows Ashe pretty well. They’ve had Bow seminars together, she doesn’t know Dedue as well but they cook together sometimes in the kitchen. He seems nice, he doesn’t yell when she makes a mistake and she makes so many of them. He keeps cooking.

They’re both subdued, nodding to her in greeting when she enters the greenhouse as they continue their work in the greenhouse. They’re repotting a lot of plants, murmuring to each other as they work. They make a nice scene as Bernadetta tries to pick the nicest flowers for Captain Jeralt’s grave. She tries not to make a scene as she hesitates between getting more white lilies or choosing purple hyacinths. She really likes the pitcher plants but it probably won’t be appropriate to leave them at Captain Jeralt’s grave. 

Her bouquet is still looking a little sparse and while she doesn’t want to hog all the flowers, it’d be nice if she could find more. She has a book on flower meanings back in her room and she knows that white lilies and purple hyacinths make a good color combo but she’s not sure what else would fit in this bouquet.

Dedue clears his throat from a far, it takes everything in Bernadetta not to jump. He’s still across the greenhouse, crouching behind a layer of pots. “Might I suggest pink roses?” He asks, rising. He dusts off the dirt from his apron and Ashe trails behind as he approaches Bernadetta slowly. He’s the oh so very tall man from Duscur. “We also have pink Gladiolus in the corner,” he explains. “I think they would look very nice with your flowers.”

Bernadetta shakes and nods and Ashe takes the signal to go cut some flowers for Bernadetta while Dedue waits. She really hasn’t talked to him much, other than the kind of spices match what foods best. Ashe arrives with both pink flowers in hand. She resists the urge to coo as Ashe hands the flowers to Bernadetta, their hands barely touching. She pairs them with the bouquet that she already has, separating the pink flowers. She doesn’t want there to be a clump of pink in the flowers. 

“These are lovely,” she compliments Dedue. “I think that’s all I need.” Dedue nods and he heads back to his work. Ashe smiles and says goodbye. Bernadetta wants to leave, she knows she should leave but she has to ask. “How’d you know about these flowers?” She asks Dedue. He had been very quick to suggest flowers that fit the theme of her bouquet, although it wouldn’t be hard to guess.

“King Lambert likes these flowers, he leaves them for his wife.”

* * *

(4th Day of Guardian Moon, 1181)

Over a week passes after Jeralt’s death and Professor Byleth emerges from their room. Their clothes are rumpled and their eyes are blurry. There was an urge to watch them emerge from their room but Seteth recommended that the students give them space for their grief. It wouldn't be good to overwhelm them just when they were taking their first steps outside. 

Professor Byleth kept to a schedule whenever they woke, whenever that was; they were not known to be early risers unless there was a mission or a briefing they had to attend. They checked on the greenhouse first to see what flowers had bloomed over the week, the fishing pond to see what had been stocked there, and then the marketplace to see what deals were in store at the monastery. Then they would eat breakfast or an early lunch.

They break their routine, heading for the graveyard first. Seteth finds them kneeling there after several hours of just sitting by their parents’ grave. For someone who’s only attachment was their father for many years, this wound cut deep and last. Seteth gives them time and space, sending even Flayn away who comes, bearing food she made in the kitchen.

The Blue Lions class had been split between the Black Eagles class and the Golden Deer class, just as had been done for Professor Manuela when she was injured by the Death Knight. The monastery will give them time to grieve, however long it takes for them to return to normal.

(4th Day of Guardian Moon, 1181)

El stumbles away after a conversation with her mourning professor. They had stared at her with such wide eyes, El had worried that she had said the wrong thing. Then they patted her on the back and walked away without another word. Had she been overly cruel with her words? It was how she survived the death of her siblings and her mother, how she survived the separation from her family. But she was not everyone. Dimitri mourned her mother in a way that she never could.

She heads for the library, she won’t ever tell Ingrid this but those books she read to her when they were young; they kept her sane. Finn, one of her older brothers, used to tell her stories about the constellations in the sky. Ingrid’s warm voice became a comfort for after every damning letter she received revealing another of her siblings’ death. 

None of the books she found in the monastery library gave any indication of what happened to her siblings. They were a footnote in history in Emperor Ionius’s reign as was she. Nor was there any information about the change in her uncle. It could have been explained away by the grief he felt at losing his sister but his behavior turned cold even before Patricia’s death. She found some records showing that the large amount of donations stopped in 1174, two years before the Tragedy of Kleiman. It’s also when he stopped writing to her. 

She still had those letters, tucked away in her chest that she brought from Castle Fraldarius. 

When she gets to the library, she finds Claude bent over a journal, reading it furiously. She raps on the desk softly, getting his attention, “Claude?”

Claude jerks and slides his arm over the journal. Odd behavior from Claude who took every opportunity to flaunt his actions. “Ah Princess, good to see you, how have you been doing?” She was placed in the Black Eagle house alongside Annette, Felix, and Sylvain so she hadn’t seen him in a while, not since the mission.

She narrows her eyes at him. He’s acting strange. “Well enough,” she responds, primly. She yanks the journal from underneath his arm when he drops his guard, thinking that she wasn’t interested in the journal. 

She shoves her hand at Claude’s chest, pushing him away. Her hand meets the firm chest of Claude’s as his outstretched hands reach for the journal. She quickly reads the first page. 

“Claude,” she asks quietly, her voice soft but sharp. “Why do you have Captain Jeralt’s journal?” Captain Jeralt had neat handwriting for a grizzled mercenary. She didn’t spend as much time with him as some of the other students did; she had no interest in learning Lance skills or Riding. But he seemed to be a good man, Sylvain listened to his advice as did Dimitri. It was clear that no matter how emotionless Professor Byleth was, they cared for each other deeply.

Claude grabs the journal back from her, tucking it underneath his arm. He’s not smiling, a rare sight from Claude. “I asked Teach for it, if you must know,” he answers, quickly. He stands firm, staring her down. He’s being quite direct right now, a usual shift from his normal behavior.

“And why is that?” El murmurs. She can’t imagine a scenario where Professor Byleth would allow such a prized possession to be in the hands of Claude. She saw his room, how he left books piled and scattered everywhere. How could Claude guarantee that he wouldn’t treat Captain Jeralt’s diary the same way. Perhaps she should set Leonie on him, to set him straight. 

“You’re not curious about Professor Byleth? How they came to be in this world?” Claude responds tightly. “Why Jeralt left in the middle of night after his baby died in a fire?” All of these were rumors that swirled around the mercenary pair. Captain Jeralt had been the captain of the Knights of Seiros before a fire destroyed his lodging, killing his baby. Or so people thought until Professor Byleth emerged, it became very clear that he was hiding something- perhaps even from Professor Byleth themselves. 

El wasn’t curious because she had secrets of her own.

“No,” El retorts. “I’m more curious about the organization causing all this!” Her voice rises and others peer around the shelves, looking for the source of the noise. Because Tomas was revealed to be Solon, however, he could no longer kick them out of the library. They could talk all they wanted here.

“So you think this is all connected?” Claude asks, curiously, getting closer, talking under his breath. The Knights of Seiros instructed the students to go about their daily lives as they investigated the mysterious group. They got the picture, they weren't supposed to be poking around investigating.

“It has to be,” El hisses. “The Death Knight is clearly connected to them as was the Western Church. They’ve already proven themselves interested in human experimentation.” When Flayn was discovered, there were rumors of needle marks all across her body as the people who kidnapped her took blood from her. El breathes, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “I think your time would be better spent looking into the people who caused Captain Jeralt’s death. You’re an excellent researcher, Claude, you should put it to good use.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Princess.”

* * *

(8th Day of Guardian Moon, 1181)

Lorenz pats Leonie awkwardly on the back as she weeps, not the first time this week, or today really. They just came out of Lance practice, usually taught by Captain Jeralt but instead this time by Seteth. He knew Leonie looked forward to these lessons because while there were several Lance users in the Three Houses, it meant that Leonie could spend at least a little bit of time in her idol’s presence. 

He doesn’t know how to comfort her, this open showing of emotion. His father always lectured him on the weakness of showing emotion, usually after showing some anger when Duke Riegan overturned him in some matter. Leonie had been stoic in the week leading up to classes resuming but the reappearance of Professor Byleth and this Lance class made her grief a little more fresh it seems.

He coughs after Leonie stops sobbing. “Do you want tea or anything?” He’s been sitting with her for at least ten minutes. He has received some dirty looks from the people walking by them. He hasn’t helped her at all in her grief, which is why they were staring most likely. Leonie hiccups, a little bit of snot dripping from her nose. 

Lorenz wordlessly offers her one of his handkerchiefs, one of the many he keeps on hand. She blows her nose in, red faced and teary. She shakes her head. “Perhaps some Onion Gratin soup? They were serving it in the dining hall earlier.”

Leonie shakes her head once more, wiping some tears away with the same handkerchief. Lorenz takes that one away from her and offers her a different one. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes, dry-eyed. She shudders, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. “I just- everything I see reminds me of him and I just,” she chokes back another sob.

Lorenz shoves the used handkerchief deep into his pocket, using his other hand to pat Leonie on the back. ‘You do not need to explain yourself to me,” Lorenz hedges. “Grief is a powerful thing and everyone processes it differently. I just wish there was a way I could help you in this trying time.” 

Underneath the lectures his father gave to him, a message rang clear. The Alliance was only as strong as the leader who led the Alliance and the people who supported the Alliance. At the beginning of the year, he may have not thought highly of his classmates but they proved often at times to be stronger than he. He was a better person for knowing them.

Despite Leonie’s modesty and reluctance to involve herself in Alliance politics, she was meant for greatness, that much was clear. He could not let her grief swallow her. It would be a waste of her potential.

They sit in silence for another five minutes, feeling the cold breeze. Could Lorenz have imagined himself sitting on a bench, comforting a mourning classmate? Not at the beginning of this year, where he imagined himself competing with whatever heir Duke Riegan managed to dig up. But this was his reality.

“I think I’d like that tea now,” Leonie murmurs. Lorenz brightens, standing up quickly, taking her hand into his. 

“Good! I’ve received the most wonderful blend of Angelica tea I think you’d enjoy.” He leads her all the way to the privacy of his room and they sip tea until Leonie feels well enough to eat. 

* * *

(11th Day of Guardian Moon, 1181)

Lysithea spends most of the day in the library, researching. She has letters from her parents, asking about Tomas and his background. Tomas had been recommended to Garreg Mach Monastery and the Church of Seiros as a librarian for more than 40 years. It was not her parents who recommended him and gave such glowing praise about the man but her mother’s parents. And yet, he had betrayed the monastery in such an awful way. 

The people who tore her family apart and left her only barely alive had to be related to Solon, Monica, and the whole rotten schemes going in the background. Flayn did not have white hair so she knew that Flayn had not been experimented in the way that she had been when she was young. In all her years, she never did discover the reason behind their experiments and why she was left behind when she alone survived. 

Perhaps they thought she would be scarred and broken and she was scarred, but they did not break her. 

Tomas had taken a sabbatical from the monastery over 8 years ago but that was years after she had been experimented on. Was he killed and then replaced with Solon? So many answers, so few questions, she mourned. 

The stack of books keeps growing around her as she continues to study and read. She’ll be taking the Warlock Certification soon and she doesn’t have a moment to spare. She doesn’t notice Raphael joining her as her view is obscured by the books. When she removes a book and notices Raphael’s blonde head, she almost shrieks.

Raphael jerks and topples out of his chair at the sound of her voice, landing hard as the chair does not fit him as well as it should. He lands on his shoulder hard with a soft noise coming out of him.

“Make some noise next time,” Lysithea hisses, when she helps him stand up, his large hand swallowing hers. 

“I did,” Raphael murmurs mournfully, rubbing the shoulder he landed on. “You just grunted at me and I didn’t want to distract you.” He plops back down on the chair that is much too small for his large frame. Lysithea skims her eyes over his books, he’s actually studying as well. “Taking my Warrior certification soon,” he says proudly with a gleam in his eye. This school year, Raphael’s taken the time to focus on Brawling and Axe skills and she knows he’s been sneaking in Lance skills as well. More than she had expected from him at the beginning of the year. 

Lysithea nods, understanding. Somehow, graduation is in two months, it snuck up on her as it did for everyone it seems. The chaos of the school year made it fly by. She clears her throat, “I’m surprised to see you studying,” Lysithea remarks, “You usually like studying in the field, right?” She’ll never speak poorly of Caspar or Raphael but they were not the academic type. They spent more time bashing axes than reading a book.

Raphael shrugs, harmlessly. “Never hurts to crack down on your studies.” His expression turns dark, “Plus I don’t see Professor Byleth or Leonie being sad in here,” he comments quietly. “With that kind of sadness, there’s not much you can do for them and when I see them sad like that, I want to hurt whoever made them sad but I can’t, not with the way I am right now.”

Lysithea swallows. Raphael is usually always so cheerful and positive but she knows what happened to his parents. He understands the pains of losing family. She lost her siblings and more when she was young but she was young and didn’t have the same bonds created with them like they did. She nods, agreeing with him. Being here with her books lets her keep her mind off the grief. She’s too focused on studying to grieve because frankly, she doesn’t have time for it. 

“How are you doing?” Raphael asks, patiently, sitting across from her and her stacks of books. “You studying hard as usual?”

Lysithea resists the urge to roll her eyes at him and nods. “And you?” 

Raphael shrugs, “Just making sure everyone’s ok, Claude’s been holed up in his room and I’m just trying to make sure Ignatz and Marianne are okay.” He mentions the two of their classmates, who well, Lysithea’s never spoken poorly of them, but are not the most mentally resilient. Ignatz, who’s self esteem is non-existent at this stage in life, and Marianne, who withdraws at any chance she can get. “But we’ll get by,” he says with a grin. “Because we’re the Golden Deer.”

* * *

(11th Day of Guardian Moon, 1181)

Hubert glanced over his research, looking at the letter his father sent to him with a sneer. He pinned it to the baseboard over his desk. It was the only letter his father ever wrote to him and he had no intention of writing back. His father spoke of his worry for Hubert and asked if Hubert had considered ending his school year early and returning home with Ferdinand. 

Hubert could read between the lines, his father taught him well after all. Anyhow, Ferdinand would never retreat back to Enbarr with his tail between his legs, one of the good things about him. It seems that while Von Aegir plotted to have his son become heir, he did not take into consideration the limited political power Ferdinand now wielded. He was not just the duke’s son but a representation of the Adrestian Empire, to be seen as a coward would be ruinous for him.

His father was hiding something from him, that much he knew but even the spies he kept in the employ of his father revealed no valuable information. Just meetings upon meetings with members of the Emperor’s household and the Seven. His offer to Professor Byleth was sincere and while his relationship with his father could never be called close by any means, Hubert always knew there was something slithering behind the scenes in the politics of Fodlan. After all, his family was one of them. 

His face ran blank as his father asked about his classmates, which was odd, considering that the majority of his classmates were children of the other members of the Seven. If he wanted an opinion of them, he could go to their parents for that. He doubted that any of the traitors would have particularly glowing opinions of them. 

Hubert’s father wouldn’t know that Hubert himself was growing a certain fondness for them, even for Ferdinand who he had known since they were small. But such fondness would be construed as weakness and thus a weapon that could be wielded against Hubert. So Hubert won’t be writing back to his father and that was that. But it didn’t mean that Hubert would stop looking for information.

* * *

(11th Day of Guardian Moon, 1181)

Dimitri smashes another sword into the dummy with enough force to cut the straw mannequin in half. It is impressive how strong the Prince of Faerghus is, to dismantle the training targets in a single blow. Dorothea has Sword training with Manuela and it’s her first close look at Dimitri without the presence of El. 

The Sword training is something that Manuela recommended for her and with the encouragement from the other girls is also something that Dorothea picked up for herself. She’s never going to be as good as Petra or Felix but at the very least she decided if the occasion decided on it, she could defend herself.

Dimitri is handsome, she notes, not necessarily her type but is part of the more attractive male individuals in the monastery. If he wasn’t attached to El, it would be a thought but the Prince of Faerghus would never look at a former street urchin like herself and also would never have the freedom to do so. How did El end up engaged to Dimitri? She mentioned that she had been a distant relative of the King’s second wife but why would she be engaged to Dimitri? Didn’t that make them step-siblings of a sort? She’s heard weird things in her operas but they weren’t actually real life.

“Eyes on me, Dorothea,” Manuela trills, sweetly. Dorothea’s eyes snap back to Manuela as she’s demonstrating a special Combat Art, one that uses magic alongside a sword without the need to use a Levin sword. “We can stare at the men during our break,” she teases lightly. 

Dorothea smiles and responds back tartly, “A girl can’t multitask Manuela? You’ve been out of the game too long.” She keeps the light hearted banter out of the classroom, Manuela has a hard enough time gaining respect but when it’s just the two of them, the usual chatter from the opera reappears.

Manuela shakes her head. “Come along,” she commands lightly. “You girls did excellently at the Winter Ball, it’s a shame I didn’t have more time to rub it in Hanneman’s face any longer,” she says gloomily, deflating a little. She frowns, “Although I want to take a deeper look at the blade used to kill Jeralt, will you come help me look at it later?”

Dorothea nods eagerly, excited to spend more time with her idol. She’s lucky enough to get Sword training with Manuela, it’s usually Catherine or Professor Byleth teaching but Catherine helping investigate Monica and well Professor Byleth….they’re still in mourning. 

The sound of a sword breaking interrupts Manuela’s demonstration and they look over at Dimitri staring down at the remains of his sword. His shoulders are slumped as he leans down, picking up the pieces with his gloved hands. El mentioned that he did that a lot, breaking things. There’s a strange look on his face, not necessarily resignation but an angry frustration. 

Manuela shakes her head. “That poor boy is in a mood,” she remarks blithely, keeping her eyes on Dimitri. “That has to be the 9th weapon he’s broken in six weeks, he pays for the broken weapons but he needs to be more careful. His entire house needs to be more careful; your friend El spends far too much time covering for them.”

Dorothea tilts her head questioningly and Manuela continues. “Their little band of friends go to her for healing instead of me, which is fine. If the damage is too much for her to handle, she comes and gets me instead but she’s going to overspend herself if she keeps focusing on them instead of herself.” They continue with her training, hopefully she might integrate sword use into one of her many skills at the Mittlefrank Opera company.

* * *

(14th Day of Guardian Moon, 1181)

El stays in bed, facing the wall with Dimitri behind her. His hand rests on her hip comfortably as he continues to sleep, his face buried into her neck. She can feel the warm puffs of breath as he slumbers. She wants to be looking at him right now so she shifts over, facing him. More often than not this month, they’ve been sharing the same bed. It’s been excused by the members of the monastery, understanding that the grief over losing Captain Jeralt has loosen up the restrictions. 

She brushes a lock of hair over Dimitri’s face, looking at him. There were plans emerging for the wedding to be after they graduated. Dimitri was 18 and of age and she had turned 18 earlier this year. There were some nobles in Fodlan who liked to marry young in order to have as many children as possible in hopes of one of them bearing a crest. But there were others who waited, like King Lambert. 

Her father hadn’t been one of them, he married when he was fifteen, even before he attended the monastery and already had Hector by the time he attended. He wasn’t the Emperor yet but his father, her grandfather, felt that it was important for the line to be established before he sent his son to the monastery. 

Because of his grief, Dimitri was acting a bit more brusque this month, speaking of revenge for Professor Byleth. It’s not as if she disagreed with him, this early in the grief, the thought of revenge may have been the only thing keeping Professor Byleth moving forward.

“Are you alright?” Dimitri asks quietly as she continues to stare at him. Edelgard freezes in her motions, she had been stroking his hair in his sleep, just thinking. 

“I’m alright,” Edelgard replies automatically, putting her hand down. Dimitri intertwines his fingers with hers and opens his eyes. The bags under his eyes are especially bad this month after the events of Remire and Jeralt’s death. Dimitri rolls more on his back and pulls her on top of him. He’s been liking this position more even though she’s worried about crushing his lungs. 

El reaches over to kiss him gently. It’s not a passionate kiss, not like the one they shared on the Goddess Tower, the ones that led to him marking her neck spectacularly as they waltzed through the night. When she tries to pull back, Dimitri fists his hand through her hair, catching the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. 

It’s still early in the morning but El is fully awake. She pushes herself up Dimitri’s body so they’re face to face and Dimitri stills at the motion, releasing his hand from her hair. “Everything okay?” She asks between nips. Dimitri nods, resting his other hand on the small of her back. His hand barely dips around her hips as El fists her hands into his nightshirt. 

Panting slightly, El pulls away and looks at him, her lips red. She pushes off him and her legs are on either side of his thigh. Her knee brushes against his groin and Dimitri stiffens again. El tilts her head at the strangled look on his face. “Everything okay?” She asks again. Her hair is probably a mess and she’ll need to brush it before she leaves the room. 

Dimitri quickly nods yes and sits up himself, pushing El off him. It’s about time they woke up anyways. Dimitri has stable duty this morning and El is scheduled to go weed the greenhouse with Dedue and Ashe. 

* * *

(18th Day of Guardian Moon, 1181)

Caspar is taking a rare break and lying in the grass with Linhardt, which is fine because Caspar hasn’t spent time like this with him since they were small. He wants to nap in the grass but Caspar is breathing too loud and he can’t lull himself to sleep like usual.

“Lin?” Caspar murmurs to him, rolling on his side, facing Linhardt. He can’t see Caspar because he has his eyes closed but he can feel Caspar touching him with his elbow. 

He doesn’t answer right away but he answers quickly enough before Caspar can prod him awake. “Yeah?” He mutters right back, keeping his eyes closed. It’s winter in Fodlan now but the cold air feels nice, especially with the warmth of Caspar next to him.

“How are you doing?” Caspar asks quietly. He’s been asking that a lot lately, since Remire Village. Caspar caught him puking behind one of the houses at Remire after the fighting was all done and he hasn’t stopped bothering him about it.

“I’m fine,” Linhardt grunts rolling on his side, turning away from Caspar. He mourns the loss of warmth from Caspar’s body but he likes to ask a lot of questions and he doesn’t want to waste energy being blunt and arguing with Caspar. 

“I’m not,” Caspar admits readily. This gets Linhardt to open his eyes and crane his neck to see Caspar sitting up right looking at this lap. “I don’t think I’ve been alright since we faced the Death Knight at the mausoleum.” Linhardt recalls Caspar getting cut down without a second thought from the Death Knight. He thought the massive amounts of blood would have made him freeze like always but adrenaline rushed through his veins and he quickly healed his childhood friend and the others in the aftermath.

Linhardt moves swiftly, raising a Heal spell. “Did we not heal something right from your injuries,” he asks quickly, reaching for Caspar. It would be just like Caspar to hide an injury for so long under the guise of being strong.

Caspar shakes off Linhardt’s arm, shaking his head. “No, physically I’m fine, it’s just,” he struggles to choose the right words. Caspar likes to go for the simplest words to get his meaning across but sometimes they’re not the best ones for the job. “I don’t understand how such evil people can keep getting away with stuff.” His shoulders slump as he keeps looking down, avoiding Linhardt’s gaze. “If someone as strong as Captain Jeralt can get killed just like that, how is the world ever going to get better?”

Linhardt furrows his brow. Caspar admired Jeralt, greatly, perhaps not on the scale as someone like Leonie or Ferdinand but Jeralt was an idol for Caspar. “He got caught off guard by Monica,” Linhardt answers simply. There was always something off by Monica, her cheerful demeanor betraying the fact that she had been held captive by the Death Knight by almost a year. There was always something off about Monica but in a school year full of characters, Linhardt thought little of it. “Or whoever she is.”

He could throw himself into researching their little gang of shapeshifters but it seemed too much effort. He had already started researching Flayn, subtlety so Seteth didn’t realize and Professor Byleth’s Crest of Flames with Professor Hanneman, throwing another research project into the pile didn’t appeal to him. 

Caspar protests, “Yeah but it was just a knife wound, we’ve all taken a hit worse than that and survived,” he says with a frown, finally meeting Linhardt’s gaze. “Captain Jeralt probably survived way worse wounds than that. El wasn’t able to help him at all.”

“Probably some special kind of blade then,” Linhardt points out. “Professor Manuela’s been researching it and it seems to be some kind of dark magic. If she’s found anything else out, I would think we would hear about it.” Dorothea was enlisted to help their professor researching the mysterious blade and she had promised that if they had found anything in their research, she would inform the others. Gossip always traveled fast around the monastery. 

Caspar waves a hand wildly, “I guess, I just thought he’d live forever.” Caspar furrows his brow. “In this kind of world, it just seemed right.” 

Linhardt shrugs, tired. He leans back down on his side, tugging Caspar closer for warmth. “He got caught off guard.” He mutters quietly, closing his eyes. “No one can live forever, anyways.”

* * *

(18th Day of Guardian Moon, 1181)

Marianne felt herself being pulled away by Hilda who was furious on her behalf. She was cursed like her ancestors but Hilda’s fury made it seem all the more cruel. To feel such kindness while she did not deserve it would make the pain much worse in the future.

“Ugh!” Hilda ranted, “What nincompoops.” Marianne had to beg her not to punch the people who were speculating that she was involved with Monica and Captain Jeralt’s death. They overheard a group of students exchanging theories about the mysterious group that was causing all the trouble over the school year.

She knew that she was a recluse but she never imagined that people would think that about her. But whatever they were saying would never be as bad as what people thought if they knew the truth about her and her crest. She feels her cheeks being cupped by Hilda’s warm hands. “You can’t listen to them Marianne,” she coached. “They’re just morons who don’t know a good thing when they see it.” 

Marianne sighs, tired. She had stayed up late last night praying to the Goddess for Captain Jeralt and Professor Byleth, who was teaching classes now but looked exhausted every single time she saw them. Even someone as amazing as Professor Byleth could have bags under their eyes, it seems. She nods weakly, hoping that Hilda would move her hands away. 

She doesn’t and she continues talking. “They’re so stupid,” Hilda huffs. “Like anyone would ever believe that someone as sweet as you would be involved with such evil people.” She never really talked much to Monica or Tomas, she supposed, they had tried to talk to her but when she ignored them out of the belief that they would be talking to her in the first place, they eventually walked away. It was probably because of the charade they were trying to keep up, to pass themselves off as normal members of the monastery. It’s what she did to most people.

“I’m really not that sweet,” Marianne protests weakly. Mercedes is sweet, Annette is sweet, Ashe is sweet, people like them who are good people are nice and kind but she’s not sweet at all. 

Hilda drops her hands from Marianne’s cheeks and tosses a pigtail over her shoulder. “Keep telling yourself that Marianne, I’ll show you how sweet you are.” She narrows her eyes. “Maybe I’ll tell Claude what they were saying, I bet he has a poison or two for them.”

Marianne gasps, “You can’t, Hilda. Just ignore what they were saying, please,” she pleads with the pink haired girl. “Leave it alone, it doesn’t matter,” she mutters to herself.

Hilda pouts, “Ugh fine. They’d deserve it anyways,” Hilda says snidely. “It’s not the first time they’ve been caught saying rude things anyways,” she points out. “Gossip mongers in that group, all of them. Fine!” She perks up, an idea entering her head. “I’ll drop it if you go into town with me,” she begs, crossing her arms together.

Marianne hesitates. She really was looking forward to a free day working with Dorte. She was making strides in her riding training and wanted to keep it up. “But I-”

“Please,” Hilda implores, crossing her hands in front of her. “It’ll just be half a day and then you can go back to the stables. I need a quick shopping spree so I don’t go after those morons.” 

Feeling a little beaten down, “Ok,” Marianne nods. “We can go into town.” She really doesn’t want Hilda to get in trouble for fighting with people. Hilda can probably take them on as strong as she is but she really doesn’t need Hilda getting into trouble over her because she’s not worth it. She isn’t. 

* * *

(18th Day of Guardian Moon, 1181)

Ignatz raises his bow, aiming it tight at the bandit raiding another merchant caravan. Since escorting his family back to Riegan territory, he’s gained a little bit of confidence. He’s not trying to stray into arrogance but he does like the idea of helping merchants travel around Fodlan safely. His father wants him to enter the service of a noble and hopefully get them to sponsor his family for doing business but this helping the underdog travel without the fear of death is nice.

Petra, Raphael, Bernadetta, Mercedes, and Leonie are all here with him. He’s been doing these small side missions to fund his art supply budget; all of his classmates appreciate his art it seems and it’s nice to have that support. He wants to do a big group picture of all his classmates but he’s having trouble getting all the colors for their hair. He wants to keep it a secret and will reveal it on their graduation day. He hopes they like it. 

* * *

(31st Day of Guardian Moon, 1181)

So it’s Cyril who overhears Lady Rhea and Seteth talking about the Sealed Forest where Solon and Monica are hiding. He was sweeping the audience chamber where he heard loud whispers in Lady Rhea’s room and while Lady Rhea has lectured him about not listening in, Shamir told him it would make him a better fighter. He sits on this information for a morning before he brings it to Lysithea, concerned. 

Shamir and the Knights of Seiros have been outside of the monastery the entire month and he has no one else he can turn to for advice. Lysithea gasped and insisted that they tell the Professor, or someone. It’ll take days for the Knights of Seiros to regroup and by then their enemies might be gone by then. Cyril is weakly convinced and it takes Claude overhearing their hissed conversation to inform the professor.

The rest of the students are rounded up quickly, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Seteth and Lady Rhea.

“I won’t allow this,” Lady Rhea orders, the students gather behind Professor Byleth as they watch a face off for the centuries. 

Professor Byleth who has finally moved past their grief for their father is adamant. 

“Lady Rhea,” El steps out of the fray. “Please. We cannot leave the monastery unguarded and there are not enough members of the Knights of Seiros to protect here. We’ve trained for months under Professor Byleth’s command, we’re ready, we can do this.” El stares at Lady Rhea, her gaze firm. She’s done her best stay unnoticed by the Archbishop and Seteth but everyone has seen the grief blanket the monastery. But this isn’t out of revenge, not for Professor Byleth.

Professor Byleth will leave for the Forbidden Forest with or without support. That much is clear.

Dimitri stands next to her taking her hand into his, nodding in agreement. Claude and Ferdinand stand behind them, showing their support. The three houses are in agreement, they will not leave Professor Byleth alone.

Lady Rhea skims her eyes over the crowd. “Very well. Professor Manuela and Professor Hanneman, would you mind staying here while your students are under Professor Byleth’s command? We cannot spare you if your students leave.”

“Very well,” Professor Hanneman says gruffly. “Be sure to stop those ruffians,” he remarks, adjusting his glasses. He hides a small grin as he looks over his class proudly.

“Agreed,” Professor Manuela commends. “Give a good whacking to the Death Knight if you see him out there for me, will you?” She smacks her hand against her fist with a smile. They’ve changed so much over the months.

“Do us proud,” Lady Rhea smiles. “May the Goddess watch over you all.” She clasps her hands together and bows her head. They set off to find the ones who’ve infiltrated the school.

* * *

(31st Day of Guardian Moon, 1181)

The Sealed Forest is just that, a forest hidden in the outskirts of the monastery. But even before they get there, they can hear the screeching of Demonic Beasts in the distance. Marianne trembles but carries on as they move to support their professor. 

They see Monica in the distance, her red hair standing out clearly in the darkness of the forest. “You,” Leonie snarls, aiming her bow and letting loose an arrow strike, alerting her to their presence. Monica blocks it easily, cackling. “Monica! You’ll pay for what you’ve done!”

“My name isn’t Monica,” she laughs shrieking. “My name is Kronya! Welcome to the Forest of Death, this is where you’ll die.” Monica’s features slither off as she transforms into a grey skinned orange hair girl. She retreats back to a clearing surrounded by pillars as mysterious men and numerous Black Beasts appear from the trees. This was a trap, just like Lady Rhea had suspected. No matter, they’ve trained for this and will win the day.

Even in their grief, Professor Byleth leads them forward in groups of two as they’ve trained to do. They need to move quickly or risk the chance of Kronya disappearing with any leads she has. Lysithea finds herself with Professor Byleth and Cyril again as they defeat the strangely masked men. They seem oddly familiar to her but she doesn’t have any time to waste digging into her memories. Professor Byleth may have said that they weren’t seeking revenge, it’s certainly revenge that is fueling most of her classmates’ actions.

She researched that Seraphim is strong against Demonic Beasts. While these Demonic Beasts don’t look like the ones they’ve faced before, that spell still proves useful against them, striking them down easily. But she’s the only one who’s advanced that far in her Faith training, the others’ having found other ways to defeat the demonic beasts. The groups of two have to split off two pathways, as they need to make sure that they don’t get ambushed on the other side. 

She’s seen Professor Byleth on the field before, they’re extremely efficient in killing their enemies but the scene in front of her proves the reason why they earned the moniker  _ the Ashen Demon _ . While she and Cyril are focused on taking down the demonic beast in front of them, the Professor is protecting them, striking down enemies left and right with the Sword of the Creator.

Lysithea can see the pairs slowly make their way up to the clearing where Kronya waits. It’s arrogance that keeps her there it seems, so assured that they would not be able to reach her, let alone defeat her. That arrogance will get her killed by Professor Byleth’s hand.

Professor Byleth disarms her quickly and Kronya, realizing that she was outnumbered and outclassed by their teacher, takes off running through the woods with Professor Byleth close behind. Another group of Demonic Beasts storm through the clearing and they cannot follow, only watching their professor run further into the distance. 

“I don’t have time for this!” Lysithea yells, summoning one of the largest Seraphim spells she could muster and takes out two Demonic Beasts at once.

“Woah,” Cyril murmurs in amazement, bringing down his bow. Because Cyril started behind them, he’s currently a Brigand with a penchant for Bows. Professor Hanneman said it would make more sense in the long run. But even he is amazed by the Faight magic Lysithea wields.

More Demonic Beasts take their place and Lysithea sighs. She’s not meant for extended combat, serving better as a hard hitter with no real defenses. Thankfully Raphael is there to take a hit while Bernadetta and Cyril dart around, aiming for weak spots in the Demonic Beasts’ armor.

Once they see a gap in the Demonic Beasts, they take it, charging forward after the professor. While there are more Demonic Beasts appearing, the amount of them that show up are dwindling. With a nod from Raphael, Lysithea and Cyril quickly take off after their professor, only following in the direction they went. 

The ground shudders and a dark flash of magic appears up ahead. “That isn’t good,” Cyril mutters as they run towards that direction, Lysithea silent. 

Kronya’s dead body lies on the ground, crumpled with a hole in her chest and her eyes blank. It shrivels and turns to dust, blowing away into the wind. Solon is there with El, Claude, Dimitri, and Ferdinand. “Where are they?” El screams, hatred in her eyes. She aims her axe at them, a full-sized one as she passed the Warrior’s examination earlier this month with flying colors. 

“Dead, locked away in a void of darkness,” Solon utters with a smile. “And you will be next.”

* * *

(31st Day of Guardian Moon, 1181)

El can hardly believe her ears. The professor, dead? Their teacher was not one to suffer such a fate. She raises her axe, menacingly towards Solon. “For your sake, you’d best hope they aren’t.” They lost Captain Jeralt, they could not lose Professor Byleth.

Before they can even meet blades, a visible slash appears in the air, the winds go wild and it feels as if there is electricity in the air. The professor appears, alive and well but changed. The dark blue hair turned into a teal color as well as their eyes. Whatever they experienced there, changed their appearance but hopefully not their person.

“No!” Solon sputters, “So even the Fell star consumes the darkness.” He mutters to himself, his forehead veins pulsing. He frowns, “I’ll just dispose of you myself,” he cries out, raising his hands, calling upon Dark magic. More Demonic Beasts arrive from all corners. El can’t believe how many there because it feels like they’ve been fighting them all afternoon alongside the masked men.

“I am glad to see you my teacher,” El remarks to Professor Byleth who nods back at her. “But we have unfinished business to take care of.” She raises her axe and squares off against a Demonic Beast, Dimitri by her side. 

For all of Solon’s bluster, those he summoned do not stand a chance against them, especially when their other classmates rejoin them. She makes sure to stay close to the Professor as it will be them who confronts Solon one last time and she needs to know what he says. She just has a gut feeling that he is somehow related to what happened to her family on both sides. 

Professor Byleth defeats Solon easily, evading his spell by tumbling and slicing at his chest. He falls, bleeding and dying but not without final words. “This is not the end…” He sputters, blood choking out of his lips. “Thales will continue our revenge against the Immaculate One.” He dies, his eyes wide open and his body turning into dust. 

“Are you alright?” El asks the professor, standing close to them. “What happened? Do you need any healing?” The questions spill out of her mouth, unthinking. Her eyes rove over the professor, looking for any obvious wounds or changes, other than the obvious. The others are finishing off the rest of the masked men and the Demonic Beasts so it’s just the two of them for the moment.

Professor Byleth shakes their head, “I am fine,” they murmur quietly, a tinge of sadness in their voice. “The goddess gifted me their power,” they admit softly. They stare down at the Sword of Creator, with something like regret. They won’t tell her what happened when she was in the abyss.

“I see,” El nods, “We should regroup with the others if you’re alright,” she takes her eyes off the professor for just a moment, long enough for the professor to collapse to the ground exhausted. She turns, surprised but also not that surprised. The professor was amazing enough to be blessed by the goddess and any changes that they experience in Zahras must have been exhausting. Hair color and eye color did not change on a whim. 

The others are still busy fighting off the Demonic Beasts as the mysterious men disappeared when Solon was killed, so El hefts Professor Byleth onto her shoulders, sheathing the Sword of the Creator by their side. She’s suddenly grateful for the Heavy Armor training she’s been doing with Dedue or this would never work. She carries them back to the monastery with the others joining her, grateful that their teacher lives but wondering what truly happened to them.

* * *

(31st Day of Guardian Moon, 1181)

El took Professor Byleth straight to the infirmary where Professor Manuela diagnosed them with pure exhaustion. “Poor thing, they must have been running on fumes since Jeralt died,” Professor Manuela clicks her tongue at them. “Not that I would ever recommend that but it’s understandable.”

El nods, leaving Professor Byleth to rest in the infirmary with one last longing look. As to not crowd the infirmary, the three houses are waiting in the dining hall, getting dinner and waiting for news on the professor.

When she gets there, Dedue, Ashe, Bernadetta, and Mercedes are in charge of cooking for them all, just a simple light meal to fill their stomachs for the night. 

“Well?” Claude asks when he sees her come in. Everyone’s heads turn towards, mid bite for some of them.

“They’re fine,” El announces to everyone who all breathe a sigh of relief. “Professor Manuela said it was just exhaustion.” They all go back to eating as El grabs a plate of food. Sylvain slides over so she can sit next to Dimitri with a smile. It’s been a full afternoon of fighting and they didn’t want to wake up the chefs just to make them cook in the middle of the night.

Dimitri, Claude, and Ferdinand all made their reports to Lady Rhea who accepted them with a smile and a nod. While the professor’s new appearance shocked many, it did not seem to shock Lady Rhea. 

Because El came to the dining hall after the others, they all finished their meals faster than her. Ingrid wants to wait for her but El dismisses them with a shake of her head. It’s been a long day for everyone and they should all get some rest. Dimitri asks for her to come to his room later, and she responds with a quick nod. Hopefully Sylvain doesn’t notice. 

El finishes her food, a spoon scraping against her plate. She washes her plate and puts it away after she finishes her meal, humming to herself.  _ In times’ flow, see the glow of flames ever burning bright.  _ She blinks, shaking her head. She’s only heard that song once before, Lady Rhea was singing it the night of the winter ball. She hasn’t asked her about the song, she can’t; Because if Lady Rhea had any inkling of who she really was, it could cause a continental war.

Dimitri asked that she come straight to his room after changing and washing up but she wants one last look at the professor. The way that their hair changed color intrigued her. The way they mentioned the goddess too, she knew that before coming to the monastery to teach, the professor was not particularly religious. 

Gossip roamed around the halls about needing to teach the professor very simple things like hymns or common prayers. But it was obvious that the way they wielded the Sword of the Creator meant that they were chosen by the goddess but in what capacity? How could they wield the Sword of the Creator without the Crest Stone? So many questions, so few answers. 

She rushes back up to the infirmary, knowing that Professor Manuela would be sleeping at this hour. When she reached the hallway, she could hear a familiar voice singing. It was Lady Rhea again, singing the same song that she sang the night of the winter ball. 

_ In time’s flow, see the glow of flames ever burning bright. On the swift river’s drift, broken memories alight.  _

She was singing to Professor Byleth but the same burning sensation that El felt on the night of the winter ball seared through her again. She knew this song and it was important to her but she did not know why. Disoriented, she wanders back to her room and back to Dimitri. 


	17. Part II Chapter XII

* * *

(1st Day of Pegasus Moon, 1181)

Because Professor Byleth passed out, again, they’ve been given the week off for rest.  They’ve taken many days off. It is a little concerning as graduation looms ever closer. It’s understandable, this year has been difficult.  Their experience has grown essentially by being thrown into the fire.

El cards her hands through Dimitri’s blonde hair, resting her chin on his chest.  Dimitri has been fidgety all night, Dedue wouldn’t say if he was still having nightmares.  Dedue still doesn’t talk much.  But what he does say is that Dimitri sleeps far better with her by his side. Sylvain says the same except he’s a bit more  crass when he says it, accompanying it with a wink. 

Thoughts cloud her mind.  Who is Thales? Solon said that he would carry out their revenge against the Immaculate One, which raised even more questions. Who was they?  Was there a group that Solon had worked with? And who was the Immaculate One?  Were they an enemy or a friend.

Dimitri knew about her past. But he didn’t know everything. Passed through the Hresvelg line was the truth about the Church of Seiros and the Ten Elites. The truth about its leader. Past Hresvelg emperors noted the appearance and leadership of the archbishop that followed Saint Seiros. They describe a familiar woman with green hair and green eyes that was interwoven throughout history. It was Lady Rhea, they were describing someone who lived through a millennia.

“You should stop thinking so much,” Dimitri mumbles, El  feels his voice rumbling through his chest.  Her head tilts up,  meeting Dimitri’s groggy blue eyes.  His hands slide against the  small of El’s back,  feeling her smooth skin . 

“Someone has to think around here,” she teases lightly, relaxing in his arms.  She rests her head against his chest, listening to him breathe.  Sylvain and Dorothea could tease them all they wanted about how far their relationship advanced, but she and Dimitri were comfortable.  At least once a month they shared a bed, if not more because of Dimitri’s nightmares.

Dimitri yawns, still exhausted.  The sun is up but El has a feeling that everyone else is still sleeping. Yesterday was an eventful day for everyone and the monastery is hibernating. “Not too heavy?” She asks quietly. Dimitri likes to pull her on top of him and she worries that she might be too heavy for him. 

Professor Byleth has put a large emphasis on being physically fit even for the magic users of their house.  She will certainly admit that it’s helped her physique and for lifting axes above her head.

Dimitri shakes his head, closing his eyes. He’s been having bags underneath his eyes for the past couple of months. While El can get away with staying in his room every once in a while, she doesn’t think she’ll be allowed to sleep overnight every single day. Even if nothing was happening.

El closes her eyes and rests her head on Dimitri’s chest, their legs tangled together. Dimitri pulls one of her hands to his and they stay there, listening to each other's breath. 

* * *

(2nd Day of Pegasus Moon, 1181)

This month’s mission  is  to protect Professor Byleth as they receive the goddess’s blessing.  All the students have been invited to attend and protect the professor.  The Knights of Seiros still search for Solon and Kronya’s accomplices but Lady Rhea places the highest importance on Professor Byleth. 

It is scheduled for the 29th day of Pegasus Moon because one, it’s the full moon that day and two, every four years there is an additional day added to Pegasus’s Moon. 

Lady Rhea declared that it was an ordained date for Professor Byleth to receive the goddess’s blessing and divine revelation.

It is supposed to be a secret, which obviously means that the whole monastery knows. The news spreads across Fodlan like wildfire as the students write to their families.  The people hunger for word, for direction from the goddess. The last revelation received from the goddess Sothis was with Saint Seiros, more than a thousand years’ ago.

* * *

(8th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1181)

In an attempt to get back to normal, Professor Hanneman hosts a Reason seminar, the first in  several months. The usual group attends, such as Mercedes, Dorothea, Annette, El, Lysithea, and Linhardt. A couple of others attend as well- Sylvain, Marianne, and Lorenz.  Both Sylvain and Lorenz have picked up Reason magic in the past few months.

Dorothea hums to herself, focusing on her nails, they still have fifteen minutes before the seminar begins and it’s enough time for the second coat of polish on her nails to dry. 

El comes in with Mercedes and Annette, a basket of baked goods underneath Mercedes’ elbow. It’s become tradition for Mercedes and Annette to come to Professor Hanneman’s seminars with some kind of sweet. It’s well appreciated in the group, especially by El and Lysithea who both have sweet tooth’s to rival each other’s.

“No Hubert today?” El remarks to Dorothea, splitting a cookie in half. It looks freshly baked as the melted chocolate oozes down the cookie. She doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth but that does look good. Hubert, who’s grown on her somehow, hasn’t been at the monastery in over a week.

She shakes her head, “He got ordered to go back to Enbarr by his father,” she informs her. “He got permission from Manuela and everything,” she frowns, a light furrow in her brow. “It seems like he’ll be there for a while.”  She knows that Hubert’s family is part of the nobility. He doesn’t act like it; he treats everyone like dirt. “Odd that he called back to Enbarr and Ferdie didn’t,” she remarks quickly to herself. 

Hubie and Ferdie are constantly together even though she knows that Hubie didn’t like him at the beginning. But now they have regular tea sessions together  even though Hubie prefers coffee. 

El blinks and then shrugs. Hubie is a regular attendee at Professor Hanneman’s seminar, he will be missed.

“Ladies,” Sylvain grins as he slides in next to El. He steals the other half of her cookie.  She stares at him, offended and takes another cookie out of Mercedes’ basket, guarding it protectively. 

“Sylvain,” Dorothea responds politely, sharing a look with El. Like the others, Sylvain’s grown on her.  Although Sylvain’s presence amongst the Blue Lions makes more sense. He brings levity to their group weighed down by  solemnity.

It doesn’t mean that she’ll go on a date with him  but he’s good for relieving tension though. 

Sylvain brushes elbows with El, drawing her attention. “Okay if we pair up during the seminar?” He asks her, “I need some help with a couple of runes for the Bolganone spell.” El tilts her head at Dorothea questioningly, she and El usually pair up together during the seminars and it will be a change of pace for her if El’s taken.

Dorothea waves a hand dismissively, examining the polish on her nails. “I can pair up with Lin, it’s fine.” She smiles brightly. 

She’ll be happy to do it. When they first entered the monastery, Dorothea regarded her classmates as little more than stepping stones. But as the months have gone by, they are more like family. She hopes that even after they leave the monastery they will treat her with the same love and affection as they did here.

She’s grown so much. She chose the Officer’s Academy as a way of securing her future through a potential marriage but she’s gained more than that. She’s gained confidence in herself and she might not even need to get married to have a secure life. 

In the end, she will return back to the Mittlefrank Opera and perform until she can’t anymore. But she might not need to become an ornament to society. Manuela’s shown her that much. 

She could teach magic or people how to read and write. She has the credentials to do so and singing is a talent that nobles would like to possess. She has options for her future and that’s more exciting than any leading role she could find. 

* * *

(8th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1181)

Petra frowns, re-reading the letter Duke Gerth sent her. It is a rather strange letter to begin with, asking her how her classes were going and how she was. It was the first of its kind after she sent the thank you note to him for allowing her to attend the Officer’s Academy. She understands that there were many strings to pull for him to let her come here.

The letter asks about her classmates, the ones both in the Black Eagles and outside.  Duke Gerth is the Minister of Foreign Affairs in the Empire. Perhaps he wishes to learn more about the future leaders of the Kingdom and the Alliance. 

But there is so much to tell him, she ponders the parchment. There are the girls in her singing group who taught her how to play the part of the 4th queen. There is Ashe who showed her how to bargain and Ignatz who showed her so many wondrous paintings. Claude who somehow knows how she feels about being an outsider in a world she can never fit in.  Would Duke Gerth even be interested in learning about that?

She writes; her letter to Duke Gerth spans three pages of parchment, front and back. But still, Petra does not feel that there are enough words on these pages even though this is one of the longest letters she has ever written. This includes the ones to her grandfather. She describes her friends in great detail, choosing to focus on the ones outside of the Black Eagles. Duke Gerth is already familiar with them and their family, except for Dorothea of course.

Duke Gerth has promised her that he will work with Ferdinand on granting Brigid further independence, as has Ferdinand himself. She was worried about leaving the capital for the Officer’s Academy but it seems that her time here has been well-spent. She has learned much and grown closer with those who will surely help her gain freedom for Brigid. Her year here has been worth it.

But it will be enough, as she prepares an envelope to send the letter back to Duke Gerth. It has to be enough.

* * *

(8th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1181)

Hilda gets out of the Axe seminar led by Alois, gross and sweaty. Alois definitely put them through their paces; even Dedue is sweating alongside with everyone else. El looks like she’s about to pass out, having Professor Hanneman’s seminar in Reason magic earlier today.  Hilda doesn’t even know how El does, handling so many things at once. She overheard her talking with Dedue about gardening duty today and the thought of more work makes her want to faint. 

She needs to rinse off before she heads into town to go shop. Her supplies for jewelry crafting ran low as she made small accessories for the girls in the music group. Ignatz said that a new shipment of things from her favorite merchant came in and she wants to be there before he runs out.

But before she can head to the baths, a pale hand tugs on the sleeve of her uniform. It’s Marianne. 

“Um, Hilda? Can I talk to you?”  She peeks at Hilda shyly through her lashes.  As always, Marianne avoids her gaze but it’s progress. Marianne never reaches out to people. It’s always people approaching her. 

Hilda nods, wiping away sweat with her other sleeve.  She feels sticky right now and while she wants to shower, it’s Marianne. And this is progress that needs to be encouraged.

“Okay if we sit down?” Hilda pleads, gesturing to a bench. “Alois made us work hard today,” she says with a half-whine in her voice. She  wanted to  skip today’s seminar. But graduation is approaching  and Holst will definitely school her in the training field if she doesn’t improve. If she keeps standing, she’s going to faint. 

The idea of having Marianne tend to her is tempting but she has shopping that she needs to do before the market gets too busy.

Hilda’s doing her best not to stare at Marianne too openly as she waits for her to speak. She’s really pretty but Hilda doesn’t want to scare her off. She’s already had to chase off Sylvain and Lorenz when they got too creepy. But she really is pretty.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” Marianne stutters her way through the sentence, keeping her eyes to the ground. “For everything you’ve done for me this year.” Her ears turn slightly pink as she keeps her gaze averted downwards.  She looks absolutely adorable.

“It’s alright,” Hilda beams. “I’m just glad I could help.” She looks at Marianne, adoringly. “Do you want to come to the market with me today?”  Shopping with Marianne last month was a lot fun, she had a great eye for things that weren’t on display. With Marianne by her side, she was able to make great deals. 

* * *

(15th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1181)

It’s a nice day to go fishing. Linhardt dips his feet in the water as he casts another fishing line.  The fishkeeper mentioned that the fishing pond was well stocked and had many large fish in the water.  While he would enjoy a more peaceful restful day of just letting his line rest in the water, this is fine.  Byleth was busy preparing for the ceremony at the end of the month so it’s fallen to him and a couple of other students to do the fishing.

He needs something to keep his mind off that strange letter his father sent him.  Because he has been fishing so much, he’s too tired to write back. Which is fine for him, he doesn’t want to write that letter.

His father doesn’t send letters and  Linhardt doesn’t write back. It’s too much effort for something that they personally don’t really care for. But this letter is different. His father gets straight to the point, which Linhardt appreciates.

_ What kind of interesting students were there at the monastery? _

The Officer’s Academy only accepted those who could pay for it and those were talented enough to make through its rigorous schedule. This year, apparently, was particularly hellish because of  _ everything _ , really. The fact that none of the students from the Three Houses dropped out was rare, especially in the face of the history that surrounded the monastery.  In theory, everyone who attended the Officer’s Academy was interesting. They had to be.

He had learned a lot this year, studying Faith and Reason magic with Manuela, crest research with Professor Hanneman, and how much he disliked the look of blood. His father is the Minister of the Interior and he’s expected to succeed him when his father passes. Linhardt isn’t sure what his father does because he’s never really cared to learn. 

When he goes home, his father will start grooming him for the role.  His father is not a well man, he’s been sick far too often.  Linhardt inherited the same delicate stature from him.  He has better health than his father, something that he most likely inherited but his mother. However,  Linhardt will eventually inherit his father’s role in Enbarr. 

It’s not worth the argument but  Linhardt has no plans to do that. His family is more than well aware that he does not  want to succeed his father. He has other siblings but none of them inherited the Crest of Cetheleann. 

It’s less of an issue for the Empire than it is for the Kingdom or the Alliance. The Empire doesn’t place that much importance on crest inheritance. There are several major houses in the region that do not bear a crest, including the Seven. 

A fish bites while he’s musing his thoughts and he reels it in after setting the hook with little difficulty. It’s a big one by the feel of his rod and he needs to focus to get it in. When he pulls the fish out, it’s a Bullhead that flops heavily on the deck. He moves it to the small bucket next to him so that it stays alive and fresh for cooking at dinner. 

He’s not sure what he’ll do after graduating from the monastery.  Despite the fascination with crests, crest research is poorly funded.  Professor Hanneman teaches at the monastery  to make ends meet. Linhardt does have to wonder why Professor Hanneman just didn’t stay a noble, he could have easily done his research at the same time.

His father won’t stand for him to stay in the household only researching so he must find a way to supplement his survival while being able to study the importance of crests. 

Caspar plunks down next to him, shaking the dock. “Hey Lin,” Caspar greets, removing his socks to dip his feet into the pond. “How ya doing?” He’s covered in sweat and dirt, having come from Seteth’s seminar in Lances. 

Linhardt shrugs, keeping his eyes on the pond. “I’m fine, do try and keep your voice down,” he reminds Caspar, far too many times has Caspar’s loud voice scared away the fish.

Caspar nods and Linhardt notices a letter poking out of his back pocket. “What’s that?” He asks curiously, it’s not like Caspar to keep parchment in his pockets. There’s no quill on him so he’s not writing a list or anything.

“Letter from my dad,” Caspar answers glumly. Linhardt does not know Count Bergliez well, Caspar does not speak of him often and when his own father does speak of the Minister of War, it’s usually in scathing terms. Linhardt isn’t sure how he and Caspar became friends, they just were one day. “Not that he’s ever cared or anything but he’s wondering about my plans after I graduate.”

Linhardt frowns,  he does envy Caspar about the general lack of expectation for him. It’s been known for years that Caspar will not inherit anything from his family. After he graduates, he’s on his own. 

Caspar’s  own attendance at the monastery was not guaranteed until his father had decided that he did not want Caspar “besmirching” the family name by traveling around and getting killed at a young age due to his lack of training. Perhaps that’s one of the reasons why his father does not like Caspar’s  father. “Really?”

Caspar nods, pulling out the letter. “I guess he’s wondering if I’ll become a knight in anyone’s households,” he  answers back, leaning against the dock. . “Which wasn’t really what I had in mind though but it’d be cool I guess. We’ve got a lot of great people in the monastery, I bet they wouldn’t mind hiring me on to fight or something.” He waves the aforementioned letter around Linhardt. “What are your plans after graduation?” He asks curiously.

“Crest research,” Linhardt answers automatically. “If I can afford it.”  His fascination with crests is purely academic. The only interest he cares about is his own.

The crests were described as a gift from the goddess Sothis but appear randomly in the genetic bloodline. While he is the eldest son of his family, he is also the only one to bear the Crest of Cetheleann, including his father.  Crests seem to appear at will. It doesn't matter whether it is a Major Crest or a Minor Crest. It was theorized that perhaps, those with Major Crests had closer ties in the bloodline but that’s proven incorrect often.

A parent can have a major crest and then none of their children will have a crest at all, not even a minor one. At least, that is, if they choose to keep pumping children out.

There were three other children in his family but none of them had crests. His father would have liked more but his mother almost died after bearing his second sister. 

Despite crests existing for a thousand years, so little is known about them. Professor Hanneman is the only well-known Crest researcher across Fodlan,  as the Father of Crestology but he focuses more on the interaction of Crests and the physical body.

There were magical and physical crests and they had different ways of manifesting and effects on the human body. For example, Dimitri had the Crest of Blaiddyd and his physical strength was legendary across the monastery. Caspar said that he had lifted an entire wagon by himself when the wheel broke. 

Perhaps it was the result of training but Linhardt was willing to bet that it was also an effect of his crest and he only had a minor crest as well. Linhardt didn’t want to think how strong he’d be if he had a major crest. Although he had heard from Mercedes talking to El during their Faith seminars that Dimitri had been breaking some of her sewing needles, not on purpose but as a result of not knowing his own strength. He wasn’t really interested in studying the Faerghus prince.

“Makes sense,” Caspar agrees. This is what Linhardt likes about Caspar, he’s just so used to Linhardt and his personality that he doesn’t fight him on most stuff. He only fights him if he thinks there’s injustice in the world but that usually doesn’t involve him. “I think I might travel,” Caspar admits. “I kind of want to see the world.” He kicks his feet in the water, looking down. “Meeting everyone, it made me realize that the world is so much bigger than the Empire, ya know?” 

Linhardt understands, the vast majority of the students in the Three Houses are nobles but they come from all walks in life. While his interest in someone may vary based on the crest they have, the world is much bigger than it seems.

* * *

(15th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1181)

El cracks open another book, a  _ Creatures of Fodlan and Where to Find Them _ with no avail. Any information on the supposed Immaculate One is leading her nowhere. There is no trace of information of the Immaculate One, not even appearing in any of the history books. Even though Tomas was really Solon, he had good suggestions at times. He might even have suggestions for her on what books to read regarding the Immaculate One.

She and Dimitri have been researching the Insurrection and the death of her siblings since they got to the monastery, finding very little. It’s just a gut feeling with very little truth but she feels the two are connected. Perhaps it is just her mind trying to put some meaning to her loss. Perhaps they’re not connected at all.

“Hey Princess, whatcha reading?” Claude sidles up to her as she slams the book shut. She had skimmed to the index looking for a mention of the Immaculate One but to no avail.

“Nothing useful,” El replies back,  shoving the book over to the growing stack. She hasn’t really talked to Claude ever since confronting him over Captain Jeralt’s journal and she’s had no interest in talking to him. 

“Looking for info on the Immaculate One?” He asks, with a sly smile. El jerks her head to look at him, mouth agape. “I might have something.” He pulls out a ripped piece of parchment from his vest, revealing a drawing. The drawing is an intricate portrait of a fierce dragon’s head. 

El narrows her eyes. “Where did you get that?” She asks, astonished. Before she can reach for it, Claude slips it back into his vest.

“Tomas, I guess Solon, gave it to me a couple of months back when I was doing research of my own.” Claude answers honestly, he fixes up his vest, looking as if he never showed the scrap of paper to her. When El stares at him, shocked. “I know, I know, what am I doing trusting a man like Solon,” he replies. “But in this situation, I do think he was trying to help me.”

He looks around for anyone listening in and leans in to whisper into El’s ear. “Apparently, the Immaculate One is a creature of legend within the Church of Seiros who is rumored to have lived for thousands of years.” He leans back as El digests this information. “Now why Solon told me that, your guess is as good as mine.” He rests against a desk, his palms flat against the wood. 

He looks at her expectantly. Over the months, he’s relied on her to provide a greater understanding of Fodlan’s mythology. She doesn’t know very much about the culture in the Leceister Alliance but she does know more about them than Claude does at times.

“I wonder what made this school year so important,” El thinks out loud. “Why did everything have to happen this year and not any other year?” All these chain of events made it clear that something else was at play. If someone was smart, they would spread it across; they could have taken their time breaking into the Holy Mausoleum, kidnapping Flayn and more. 

Claude eyes her strangely. “This is Flayn’s first year here,” he informs her readily. “I’ve confirmed it with people here at the monastery and Flayn herself. Plus, you’ve got all three future leaders of Fodlan at the monastery too. Maybe it’s just good timing.” He drums his fingers on the desk, watching her. He does that a lot- people watching. 

El ponders over that statement. Perhaps Solon knew that Flayn would be here and that was the reason she was kidnapped. “But they couldn’t have known about Professor Byleth and Captain Jeralt; they couldn’t have guessed that they would return to the monastery this year.” She points out, no one could ever imagine that the Blade Breaker and the Ashen Demon would return to the monastery.

“And what does it matter that the three future leaders of Fodlan are here?” She argues, ignoring the sting that Ferdinand was her father’s heir, not her. She had ignored it the best she could this entire year, what was the rest of her life? “Doesn’t your appearance here call for more scrutiny? If they’re trying to be subtle, they aren’t doing a good job of it,” she dismisses pointedly.

“All very good points,” Claude agrees with her. “So any information you found about Thales?” He asks curiously, looking at her.  She’s asked some of the local merchants if they’ve ever recalled encoutering someone by that name but no luck. Thales is not a common name within Fodlan.

El shakes her head. “Nothing. There’s nothing about that group anywhere, none of the merchants have ever heard of that name.” She frowns a little. “I did a little digging into Jeritza’s background, hoping to find something.”

“And?” Claude says patiently , watching her.

“Nothing,” She slams the book shut. “He’s only been here at the monastery for a couple of years  and he’s an adopted member of House Hyrm,” and this she says with a frown. 

“Adopted?” Claude asks. El glances at him, while House Hyrm was not a member of the Alliance, for the past decade, their existence was a political conundrum for the Alliance and the Empire.  It wasn’t uncommon for noble familes to adopt people who had crests in their bloodline, just for the sake of integrating a crest into their family.

She clears her throat and narrows her eyes. “Do not bring this up to Lysithea,” she orders. There’s a history for Lysithea and the Empire and it’s not pleasant. She understood what her father meant to do but it doesn’t mean that people weren’t hurt when it happened.  Lysithea treats all the Black Eagles with the same courtesy despite what happened to her family. 

“A little more than thirteen years ago, House Hrym tried to defect from the Empire to the Alliance and the main line was wiped out as a result of it.” El explains quickly to Claude. She was young when that happened but what she does remember is that her father was in constant meetings with Ludwig Von Aegir, Ferdiand’s father. 

It was a tense time in the palace and even her older brothers were swept up in the political intrigue. When Hyrm tried to defect, there was concern about the other nobles trying to do so as well. Her father had to make an example of Hyrm. There was pressure from the Prime Minister as his territory was close to Hyrm.

Claude tilts his head, “What does this have to do with Lysithea?” How does this man not know anything about the Alliance, El has to wonder. Even Dimitri has a cursory understanding of the Kingdom and its political landscape. 

El clears her throat again, looking around to make sure Lysithea is not in the area. She hasn’t brought it up to her but she understands that it must be a sensitive topic for her. This is usually around the time Lysithea likes to come into the library. 

“House Ordelia tried to help them and they were punished by the Empire as well.” She doesn’t know what exactly happened but even though House Ordelia is part of the Round Table in the Alliance, they are not as formidable as the other members. Perhaps with Lysithea leading the helm, they will be but in their current state, they are vulnerable.

Claude stares at her for a moment. “The Alliance didn’t do anything?” He asks quietly. In the aftermath, House Ordelia was treated like an insubordinate member of the Empire but they were not officially annexed. The Alliance did nothing in the wake of their punishment.

El shakes her head, “Nothing.” she confirms. “If they did try anything, it was nothing compared to the wrath that the Empire brought down on House Ordelia. Obviously, House Ordelia remains a member of the Alliance but as future leader of the Leicester Alliance, Claude, you’d do well to make sure to see how the Empire or the Kingdom affects you.”  Compared to the past, the Empire was a shadow of itself. It was much stronger than the Kingdom or the Alliance but the Empire would not stand a chance if they stood together. 

“You really are wasted on Dimitri, aren’t you?” Claude remarks, keeping his green eyes on her.  His fingers rattle against the desk, waiting for her.

“Excuse me?” El snaps back at him. Dimitri did not need to pay attention to the politics of Fodlan. It was why he had her and the others. 

“You’re giving me a lecture on my own country’s political background, or at least a very small part of it,” Claude points out. “And I’ve understood it, if you explained this to Dimitri, would he?” His green eyes lose the levity as he stares her down, challenging.

El stands up, stiffly, eyes sharp and narrow. “You underestimate him, Claude. It’s foolish of you to do so.” She turns on her heel, leaving him to deal with the stack of books that she pulled out.

* * *

(13th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1181)

Lorenz shines the blade of the lance he commissioned for Leonie. It came in from Gloucester only a few days ago, made by the finest blacksmiths his family had commissioned from for decades. 

She had recently broken the one she had for months and unfortunately, as she lamented to him, that it wasn’t in her budget to afford a new one. She would be relying on bows instead.

It was one of the many things that Leonie had sought to teach him over the months. Understandably, commoners did not have the means or the wealth that someone like he did. Any gifts he tried to give her, she had refused most whole-heartedly, stating that they were not practical gifts. And he did have to admit, hair pieces and books were not something that she valued. But she would value this. 

She could not refuse this, Leonie was best with a lance in her hand and even she could not disagree that using a bow, while still talented, limited her in her fighting. Besides, when Professor Byleth would receive the Goddess’s revelation, Leonie would need to have the best beside her. 

It takes a bit of convincing but eventually Leonie accepts the gift. 

* * *

(15th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1181)

Ashe is working in the garden with Dedue again when he spots Catherine. “Excuse me,” he says politely to Dedue before walking up to Catherine. Dedue follows, quietly behind.

“Lady Catherine!” He calls out, approaching her quickly. Dedue stills; in his grief, Ashe has been quiet since the death of Lord Lonato. However, it was not lost on Dedue that Catherine and Lord Lonato had a shared past, at least one involving Lord Lonato’s biological son, Christophe. “Might I get a chance to speak to you?”

Catherine opens her mouth and then closes it once she realizes who she is speaking to. “I’m sorry, I don’t really have time right now,” she dismisses frantically. “Kind of on a time crunch.”

“You’re going on a mission to the Western Church, are you not?” Ashe announces loudly, ignoring her words. “I’d like to come.” Dedue stares at Ashe, unaware that such a mission was going on. He wonders where Ashe had heard such a thing.

Catherine stares at him. “Kid, this is not a sight-seeing mission.” She shakes her head. “That is not a good idea.” Ashe has stayed quiet for the most part about his resentment towards the Western Church aside from a few comments. 

“The Western Church manipulated Lord Lonato and if you’re going to see them, I would like to see them too.” Ashe pushes harder, standing up firmly to Catherine. His face is set and his determination rings clear. “You’re looking for some of the Knights of Seiros to go with you. I’d like to come. Besides, aren’t most of the Knights of Seiros preparing defenses for Professor Byleth to receive the revelation?”

She stares at him, mouth slightly agape. “How did you- nevermind. If you want to come, that’s fine.” She levels a stare at Dedue, waiting in the back. “Is your friend coming too? Could use the backup.” She admits. They must be shorthanded especially since Professor Byleth does not come on them for the mission. Lady Rhea does not permit it as she feels that they should stay in the safety of the monastery before the ceremony at month’s end.

When they go on the mission, the rest of the Blue Lions house follows. It is commonly said in the monastery that where one Blue Lion goes, the others are close behind. It’s a mark of pride for Dimitri, that his house is so closely intertwined and loyal to each other.

Ashe does not get the closure he needs for Lord Lonato and the Western Church. They are attacked in the thick fog by the Western Church and as always, the Western Church denies their actions, insisting on calling Lady Rhea an infidel and betrayer of the Church of Seiros’ mission. They do not admit their guilt in leading Lord Lonato astray in their hope for vengeance.

It’s galling that even in the wake of their guilt, the Western Church still views itself as a victim of the Central Church’s machinations. Even though they’re the ones who manipulated Lord Lonato and attacked the monastery during a sacred ceremony.

But what he does get is a short visit with his family, introducing the Blue Lions to them. His brother and his sister are enamoured with Dedue and his height, hearing stories about Dedue’s kindness and the pressed flowers they receive in the letters from Ashe. It’s a peaceful scene that will change in the next few months. The quiet before the storm.

* * *

(21th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1181)

It’s just after class ends and El is getting dinner with Dorothea and Petra. She’s remained close with the girls in the music group and it’s nice. She hopes these friendships will remain even after they graduate from the Officer’s Academy. 

Dedue comes up stone-faced as El is in mid-bite, a Fish and Bean Soup she’s eating. She’s pretty sure Dedue prepared it sometime earlier this week. “Again?” She asks quietly. Dedue nods and El stands up sighing, pretty much finished with her meal. “I’ll see you girls later.” She waves goodbye as she and Dedue set off towards the training hall.

“Not that I don’t appreciate you giving me a heads up about him,” El remarks to Dedue as they walk by. “But he needs to have better timing.” She grumbles, pushing back a lock of hair behind her ear. She’s using a different hairstyle than before, a lace braid ponytail that Petra taught her. 

“He hasn’t been sleeping well,” Dedue points out unobtrusively. El sighs, knowing Dedue speaks the truth. Ever since Remire Village, Dimitri has been having constant nightmares.  Sylvain said as much. It got in the way of his dates when they heard Dimitri screaming at night next door.  El shoved him after a remark like that and threatened to set Ingrid on him if he ever said anything like that again. 

“I know and I appreciate you telling me,” El says truthfully. “But we need to find a better way to help him. It can’t just be us lecturing him all the time about sleeping properly.” Dedue nods in agreement but realistically, El talking to him is all they can do right now. Once they graduate, perhaps she can help Dimitri find  peace  and see what exactly is causing his nightmares.

“How have you been lately?” El asks him curiously. Dedue may think that he’s just another arm for Dimitri to use but Dedue’s actually grown out of his shell. 

“I’ve been well,” Dedue answers automatically. “The flowers have been doing well in the greenhouse and should be blooming for graduation.” When Dedue isn’t by Dimitri’s side, he’s either in the kitchen or in the greenhouse. El thinks it’s because it reminds him of Duscur. 

El nods, “That’s good. You and Ashe have been putting a lot of work into that greenhouse.”  If she has her door open in her room,  she can smell the flowers blooming in there. 

“He is a good worker,” Dedue demurs, speaking of the grey-haired boy in their class. El eyes him, a remark on the tip of her tongue. She’s not the only one who’s noted their closeness. But she won’t. She’ll just have to engineer the situation when they’ve returned to Fhirdiad. 

Dedue leaves her at the gates to the training hall and El braces herself, pushing through the large doors. Dimitri’s in mid-stab, demolishing another training dummy into bits.  Dimitri’s strength has always left her breathless. He has had strength that someone his age shouldn’t.

Dimitri doesn’t even know that she’s come in, too focused on bludgeoning the dummy into pieces. She blinks calmly as the straw flies out of the dummy and eventually, the lance he’s using shatters into pieces.

El steps in as Dimitri stares at the shattered pieces around him. She takes the wooden stub out of his hands as his gaze passes through her as if she’s not standing there at all.  El raises a pale hand to brush a lock of his hair away from his face.  He flinches under her touch and finally, he notices her.

“El, when did you get here?” El does not follow after him.  Dimitri has recognized her presence but it would be best not to push it.

“A couple of minutes ago,” she answers,  kneeling down  to pick up the pieces of the shattered lance. She avoids the splinters and picks up the metal head of the lance. He’s been destroying them at a concerning rate. When he was younger, it was an accident and only once a month but now it’s happening more often. “If you’re not feeling tired, I think trying to make yourself tired isn’t really the way to go.” She looks up, meeting his eyes. “Or are you trying something different?”

Dimitri sighs, coming back to her. “I sleep better when exhausted,” he explains  softly . “There’s too many things in my head right now.” He walks her over the bin where they dispose of the broken lance pieces. “Father isn’t doing well right now,” his voice drops to a low murmur. “Lady Cornelia is tending to him but Lord Rodrigue is concerned.”

“I’m sorry, Dimitri.” El whispers quietly. Since the Tragedy of Kleiman, King Lambert had his position as king questioned. Thankfully, since Dimitri was there, his position was still secure but there were calls for Rufus, his older brother, to assume the regency until Dimitri was of age. However, Rufus’s poor behavior in the capital led the major nobles in the Kingdom to support their King. But as Dimitri passed his age of majority a few months ago and inches closer to graduation, the calls for a coronation will increase. His illness will be just another drop in the scale.

Dimitri shakes his head. “We’re so close,” he says mournfully, he eyes her warily. “Father has said that when we graduate, you will come back to Fhirdiad with me and not back to Fraldarius.” El blinks, a little surprised. 

If she returns to Fhirdiad, it must mean that they will be married soon. It’s so strange, thinking that she’ll be married to Dimitri. It has been a long five years since their engagement was first announced. Of course, it wasn’t as if they could just stay engaged but marriage seems so final, like the end of her youth.

She takes his hand into his. “I’ll be glad to be back in Fhirdiad. It’s been so many years,” she muses. She looks at him, pressing her forehead to his. “Do you want to stay in my room tonight?” She asks curiously. In the dozen or so times she and Dimitri have shared a room, she’s never seen him have a nightmare. It’s the only way she knows how to soothe his horrors. 

Dimitri nods. “If you don’t mind.” He closes his eyes, weaving his fingers through hers tightly. She can feel the large calluses on his hands. “I’ll get this cleaned up and get some dinner.”  Kissing her briefly on the forehead, he releases her hands and looks over at the mess he made. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

* * *

(22nd Day of Pegasus Moon, 1181)

Rumors swirl around the monastery. Lady Rhea and Seteth are heard arguing in her office. It was about Professor Byleth and Captain Jeralt. It isn’t about Captain Jeralt’s murder. Kronya and Solon were killed last month by Professor Byleth. The Knights of Seiros still search for their accomplices near the monastery.

The reasons for the argument aren’t clear, everyone knows that they’re special, everyone knows they’re special. The first to inherit the Crest of Flames since Nemesis as well as the first to wield the Sword of the Creator. 

No one could hear them clearly but even Flayn doesn’t know what they were arguing about, only that Seteth was upset.  It’s a mystery hidden in Captain Jeralt’s journals and one that will die with Professor Byleth and Lady Rhea. For not even Professor Byleth knows the mystery surrounding their birth and death of their mother.

In the excitement that there will possibly be another revelation from the goddess, there is an increased number of visitors to the monastery. It’s almost as busy as the month of the winter ball.  Word spread across Fodlan quickly, people want to have a festival when the divine revelation is heard.

Ignatz puts down another layer of paint for his drawing. He’s kept it mostly to his room, keeping his door open just a slight crack so the paint fumes down overwhelm him as he works. It took a while to find the proper mix of paints for everyone’s hair color but he finally has it all together. 

By the time graduation comes, he’ll have this painting ready. It’s the first major project he’s ever put on himself and he’s proud that he’s managed to stay within deadline. 

It’s merely just rumors around the monastery and he’s never put too much stock into them. The gossip mills run strong where power is and Ignatz can say that this monastery wields a lot of power with its students and its standing as the premier academy of Fodlan. 

The many people going in and out of the monastery was how he got all the paints that he needed. He’s asked Bernadetta for some help on the sketching of the students that he can’t quite capture properly, which she’s offered to him graciously. Mostly through quick dedicated pictures of their classmates. If she lingered, Ignatz would have many compliments for her but she disappeared as quickly as she appeared, not waiting for words.

Hopefully, Lady Rhea will let him keep the painting here at the monastery. He won’t be able to travel with it at all even back home before he sets off to become a knight. After they graduate, and he’s brought this plan up to Raphael, the two of them plan on becoming a sort of protective detail for merchants traveling around Fodlan. 

Raphael was more than enthusiastic about his proposed plan. For good bodyguards, merchants are willing to pay and Ignatz can say with confidence that he knows that he can help protect those who need it most.

* * *

(29th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1181)

They descend deep into the Holy Tomb, far beneath the monastery. Everyone’s eyes go wide as they realize the vastness of the tomb, stretching further than expected. The only one not surprised is Lady Rhea, of course. The mechanism that drops them beneath the monastery is one  Edelgard never seen or read about before. 

The Holy Tomb is large and at the head of the room sits a giant stone throne. Green marble lines the room as natural light and candles fill the darkness with shadows instead. Despite its age, the throne itself isn’t covered in dust. The room is lit by candles with caskets the same size as the one found in the Holy Mausoleum where it is said that the goddess Sothis rests. Who else fills these tombs?

El looks up, staring at the vast arches that make up the ceiling. “This must be the foundation of the monastery,” she remarks to herself. The vast space below the monastery is immense and it makes her think that this must only be one part of it. How many secrets does Garreg Mach hold? Dimitri takes her hand,  taking in the vastness of the Holy Tomb. 

Her remark goes ignored, as Lady Rhea focuses her attention on Professor Byleth. An almost fervent gleam enters her eyes as she directs the Professor to sit on the vast throne.

“Do you recognize this throne, Professor?” A hitch enters her voice as she stares at the throne dreamily. “Our goddess Sothis once sat on that throne.” Her eyes only see Professor Byleth and no one else. It’s as if no one else is in that vast room with them. The serenity that defines Lady Rhea is gone, only a desperate voice lingers.

Professor Byleth looks at her and shakes their head, indicating that no, they don’t recognize the throne. It stands tall, on a set of stairs but the throne itself is fit for a giant. There’s an opening over it, allowing the natural light to shine through. When the professor walks up the steps towards  the throne , El hears footsteps in the dark. 

She ignores them, instead watching the professor, who looks positively diminutive sitting on it. Rhea waits, as if expecting something to happen.

Perhaps everyone is waiting for something to happen with intakes of breaths and stares at the professor on the top of the throne, waiting for something or anything to happen. But nothing does. There is no flash of light or a voice. They appear unaffected, sitting on the throne unchanged.

El hears steps in the background, turning her head to stare at one of the tombs. A shadow passes it and El shakes her head. The tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife. The gravity of the situation must be getting to her. The buildup of one month of expectations only leading to disappointment in the situation. Not the professor, never the professor.

The professor steps down from the throne, looking back at it when they reach the three houses. There’s a bit of sadness in their eyes. No, not sadness, regret in their eyes.

“How?” Rhea sobs, taking a step towards the professor. “This was supposed to work, you were supposed to be-” She cuts herself off with a shake of her head, her green eyes flashing, disappointed. Another movement in the shadows, one that does not go unnoticed by the three houses. She jerks her head towards a shadow of a tomb. Iron enters her voice. “Who goes there.”

* * *

(29th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1181)

A sharp figured man emerges from the shadow. “Was hoping we could do this undetected but that’s fine,” he says vindictively. A small army of men emerge from the shadows carrying small leather bags on their side. “My name is Metodey and we’re here to rob you blind.” His brown hair falls in his eyes and he carries a menacing blade that he drags, clanking against the ground. If this were a different time, Felix would lecture them about treating his weapons right.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Lady Rhea shouts as the men begin to open the tombs. “You’re descretating the Holy Tombs!” There’s an anger on her face unseen like anything before. A soft glow emanates from her and then disappears. 

“We’re taking back what belongs to us,” a tall man says smoothly, as he appears next to Metodey. He resembles Solon with the same white skin and veiny forehead. “Get the Crest Stones,” he orders as the masked men begin pushing open the tombs in earnest. His eyes meet Lady Rhea’s and he smirks, in victory. 

Ferdinand steps forward, looking at Metodey with recognition in his eyes. “I know you,” he utters softly. “You’re one of my father’s men.” The Black Eagles House leader looks shocked at the scene in front of him. He doesn’t know this man well, only appearing in his life a couple of years ago but his father has had frequent meetings with, most of them in their own house. “What are you doing?” 

A flash of magic appears next to Ferdinand and he is warped away to their side by Hubert. He falls unconscious in Hubert’s arms and is carried away from his house. Hubert’s eyes are cold and blank even after he turns his back on the three houses. He won’t meet El’s eyes. Hubert cradles Ferdinand’s neck, supporting him by his knees. It’s the friendliest touch he’s given in years and the boy he’s holding doesn’t even recognize it.

“Hubert?!” Dorothea shrieks as she watches who she thought was a friend betray them. This is a wound that cuts deep for those who knew him.

“Thank you,” Metodey bows sarcastically towards Hubert and announces out loud. “Would be best if you didn’t interfere,” he taunts. “Wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt,” he grins shamelessly as the masked men rife through the numerous tombs’s contents. This man’s arrogance will be his downfall when El strikes him down without a single thought.

The tall pale man snaps his fingers wordlessly as mechanical beasts appear in the tomb with them. Instead of monstrous heads on these demonic beasts, it seems that they are wearing masks instead with red strands covering where their mouth is. This was a planned attack. One that was prepared many months in advance.

“How dare you!” Lady Rhea screeches, watching the men walk away with full bags of Crest stones. They edge around the experimental demonic beasts, giving them a wide berth as they make their way back towards Metodey and his companion.

“How dare I?” The tall pale man smiles mirthlessly. “One could call this natural, the world making itself right again. For far too long have you hidden under the Church of Seiros, waiting for your dear goddess to save you. Where is she now?” He insults. “Gone and she won’t be able to help you.” He spreads his hands wide, mockingly. He disappears in a flash of magic, leaving Metodey and his cronies to finish the task at hand.

“Professor!” Lady Rhea orders Professor Byleth. “You must stop these heathens from desecrating the Holy Tomb!” They nod silently and the rest of the three houses spring into action, shocked by the scene in front of them. 

“Retrieve the crest stones,” Professor Byleth murmurs quietly, unshocked by the failure of the revelation. “We cannot let them get into the wrong hands.” They direct Lysithea, El, Dimitri, Sylvain, Ingrid, Caspar, Raphael, and Claude to focus on the experimental Demonic Beasts. Professor Byleth will lead the others in retrieving back the crest stones from the men who steal them. 

While they manage to stop the crest stones from being stolen, the damage is already done. The tombs lie in ruin as does the relationship between the Empire and the rest of Fodlan forever. There is no turning back. This was an act of war by the Empire towards the Church of Seiros and it is one that will not be taken lightly, by anyone. The strange man, Hubert, Ferdinand and any of their surviving men disappear from the monastery.

The damage of Hubert’s betrayal and the disappearance of Ferdinand leaves the Black Eagles leaderless. While disgruntled and occasionally disloyal, Hubert did enforce Ferdinand’s decisions. And Ferdinand, the boy who would be emperor, it is wondered how much did he know about the Empire’s betrayal?

All eyes turn to the rest of the Black Eagles, under scrutiny by the Knights of Seiros and investigation. It becomes clear throughout the night that they knew little of the Empire’s schemes, despite their relations to the Empire’s leadership. 

Every letter is screened and package ripped apart for any secret notes. 

Hubert and Ferdinand’s room are essentially torn apart, looking for clues that forewarn their betrayal. The rest of the Black Eagles are allowed to help prepare Garreg Mach’s defenses as the Kingdom and the Alliance prepare their border castles for a pre-emptive strike.

But the Empire’s intentions lie with Garreg Mach Monastery. The Imperial Army marches closer, preparing for the first strike of a long war and the Church of Seiros re-gathers itself.

There is no time to summon a proper army to defend Garreg Mach and not enough time for Claude or Dimitri to call for aid. Rumors travel through the villages that an army approaches Garreg Mach with banners carrying the two headed eagle. 

War is coming to Fodlan, whether it likes it or not.


	18. Part II Chapter XIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that there will be explicit smut in this chapter near the end.

* * *

(1st Day of Lone Tree Moon, 1181)

After the attack in the Holy Tomb, the monstery is left reeling. In the aftermath, many of them are left rattled. For some, it’s seeing the hatred and vitriol that Lady Rhea spat at the invaders. It’s the realization that Hubert and the Empire caused every mishap and misfortune that this year faced. It’s the realization that someone they knew planned every single step. It’s the realization that the Imperial Army has been mobilized and is marching on Garreg Mach. They will be there in two weeks. 

Lady Rhea orders the villagers near Garreg Mach Monastery to evacuate; there’s no sense in them becoming the victims of the Empire’s war. Owls fly around the academy, bringing news left and right. For many, the owls bring chaos. Politics were supposed to stay out of the Officer’s Academy. For the Black Eagles, it’s the information that their own families were behind the attack. Nothing could be started without the agreement of the Seven.

Because Caspar is the son of the Minister of War for the Empire, he should face the most scrutiny. However, it’s well-known that Caspar wears his heart on his sleeve and hates injustice. He’s also a terrible liar.

Instead, it’s the quieter members of the Black Eagles who are mistreated, Linhardt and Bernadetta. 

Bernadetta shakes, hiding her face in her knees behind a bush. The Knights of Seiros have been searching her room for the past fifteen minutes and it’s one of the worst things she’s endured while at the monastery. There aren’t any letters for them to rifle through but they’ve been going through her journals and her stitching with little care. 

She remembers Ashe having to endure the same thing when Lord Lonato was leading the rebellion all those months ago and she prayed that she would never have to endure such a thing. Her prayers went unheard.

“What are you doing?!” El’s sharp voice rings through the dormitories as she stares the knights down, going through Bernadetta’s things. The knight going through her room grimaces; Bernie had heard that it was El who stood up for Ashe and she was doing the same thing for her. 

“Going through a traitor’s room,” the knight barks back aggressively. Bernie knows how this looks, her father was the Minister of Religion in the Empire. He had to be involved in the coordinated attack on the Holy Tomb. But if he was, he never told her about it. 

“And have you found anything?” El raises her chin, defiantly. She barely reaches their shoulder but she meets their eyes easily. Bernadetta shivers because no one’s ever stood up for her like this. 

The knight scowls, silent. Of course there’s nothing to find, Bernadetta wants to shout. She was too useless for her father to ever want to tell her. 

“That’s what I thought,” El retorts sharply. “I think we’re done here,” she snaps at them. “Shouldn’t you be preparing the defenses?” She asks contentiously. “Instead of looking for what isn’t there?” Lady Rhea is preparing the front lines of the monastery for the attack. There aren’t any people going in or out of the monastery, the gatekeeper has had strict orders not to let anyone in, just supplies. 

The pair of knights scowl in response but walk away, their boots stomping heavily on the ground. 

El turns around and her gaze softens when she sees Bernadetta cowering behind the bush. She kneels down, a few feet away from her. “Do you want to go to my room?” She asks quietly. “Just for a couple of hours. I can get your things back into your room. I can help clean up. But I was wondering if you need some quiet.” She stays, facing Bernadetta but not meeting her eyes. Bernie shakes before nodding. She remains silent. 

“Head to my room,” El murmurs quietly, her lips barely brushing her ear. “I’ll get some of your things and then we can start cleaning up everything, ok?” She soothes, placing a delicate hand on Bernadetta’s shoulder. 

Bernie keeps her gaze down as she shuffles down the stairs. It hurt, she didn’t even protest to the knights searching her room. She just sat there and watched them go through her things. She thought she was stronger but no, she was still that weak and pathetic girl she was when she first came to the monastery.

Because she wasn’t watching where she was going, she bumps into someone, falling to the ground. It’s Raphael. 

She wasn’t paying attention to where she was going so she bumps into Raphael. She falls over, already teary-eyed and sad and sits on the ground.

“Bernadetta!” Raphael pulls her back up. “Caspar told me what was going on, are you alright?” He blurts out, sweaty and nervous. He supports the small of her back as Bernadetta wobbles.

Bernadetta takes one look at him and bursts into tears, wailing. It’s officially her worst nightmare. She hasn’t cried in public for years. She learned at a young age, tears didn’t help and didn’t mean much. 

She stays there in Raphael’s arms, sobbing pitifully. She hears El rushing back with some of Bernadetta’s things in her arms; her favorite blanket, her knitting basket, and some of her journals. She freezes, taking in the scene. 

El walks over towards Raphael, indicating for him to follow her. “Come on,” she murmurs softly. “She can stay in my room.” Raphael directs Bernadetta to follow him and El as she tries to stifle her tears.

When they get to El’s room, it’s messier than usual. Books are strewn about and her bed isn’t made. Last time Bernadetta was here, her room was pristine, books stacked neatly and her pillows perfectly fluffed. 

“I’ll get your room back into order, okay?” El smiles softly, cupping Bernadetta’s cheek. “Stay here as long as you need, alright?” She looks at Raphael, judging him silently before speaking. “Raphael, if you aren’t too busy-”

“I’ll stay with her,” Raphael interrupts, sitting down on El’s chair, far too small for his frame. “If that’s alright with you.” He asks her. 

“Thank you. I’ll let Dimitri and Claude know what happened.” She reports quickly. “They really shouldn’t be wasting their time searching rooms,” she mutters to herself. “There’s so many more things that they could be doing.” She stalks off out of the room, still talking to herself.

Bernadetta pulls her favorite quilt over her, covering her head and entire body. She knows that she must look like a shapeless lump right now but she doesn’t care. She does grab Raphael’s hand, forcing him to sit on the ground without a single thought. She falls asleep like that, her head burrowed underneath her blankets.

When El returns later in the afternoon, she finds Raphael sleeping on the floor, resting his head on her bed and Bernadetta under the blankets, still holding hands. She slips in, grabbing a change of clothes and heads to Dimitri’s room for the night.

* * *

(3rd Day of Lone Tree Moon, 1181)

Ashe wipes his forehead, sweating profusely. They’re busy barricading the walls in preparation for the Empire’s attack. They need to fortify the walls and later, Ashe will have to make some arrows as well. They’ve all gone into preparation mode and there isn’t a second to waste.

He sent a letter to his siblings, telling them to evacuate the household to Fhirdiad. El told everyone that King Lambert would be fortifying the borders of the Kingdom that they shared with the Empire but there wasn’t enough time to organize an army and send them down to Garreg Mach Monastery. They were on their own. 

He spots Caspar, helping lift long pieces of lumber by himself. Ashe scrambles over to help him, taking the other end of lumber for himself. They lift the pieces of wood easily. “Where to?” Ashe pants, holding up the other end.

Caspar jerks his head wordlessly, silent for a change and they leave it for the carpenters to use. “Thanks,” he says gruffly, keeping his head down. He heads back for more lumber and Ashe joins him, working in silence. They do this for fifteen more minutes before Caspar breaks the silence. 

“Thanks, Ashe, for helping.” When they stop to take a water break. They’ve been working since early morning as reports of the army approaching them numbered in the thousands. “And for not ignoring me,” he mutters under his breath. 

Ashe hesitates, remembering back to a couple of months ago. Had it only been less than a year since he killed the man who saved him as a child? “It’s not anyone’s fault,” Ashe comments quietly, “to not know what a parent does without their child’s knowledge.”

“Hubert knew,” Caspar points out, scoffing. He shakes his head. He eyes Ashe warily. “Just, if you see my dad out there, avoid him at all costs.” He informs him. “If we’re lucky, he won’t be there. You can tell everyone that.” He grounds his boot into the dirt.

“Your dad is the Minister of War in the Empire, right?” Ashe asks softly. He remembers Gronder Field was near Caspar’s home but he knew very little of Adrestia. Lord Lonato spent most of his time trying to educate him on the noble court of Faerghus. He had very little time to teach him about Fodlan in general.

Caspar nods, wordlessly, taking another sip of water. His eyes are blank as they continue to rest. The work continues on around them and the chaos continues as more lumber is transported. He can see Leonie and Raphael in the distance, carrying more lumber themselves. 

“I knew Hubert was sketchy,” Caspar says out loud. “He wasn’t the nicest guy but I never imagined this.” He toys with the small empty water cup in his hand, keeping his eyes on it. The tall dark mage of the Black Eagles house cut an imposing figure. Ashe avoided him at night to make sure he wouldn’t scream if he ever saw his dark figure but Ashe never really talked to him in general. 

“It’s weird, though, right? My dad hasn’t asked me to come back and I know this because I haven’t been marched up to Lady Rhea’s room and interrogated.” His face screws up in confusion. “He wrote to me last month but that was just to see how I was. Not that he was going to be attacking the monastery.”

Would have Ashe felt better if Lord Lonato told him what he was planning? Would he have felt better if he was left in the dark? Ashe loved Lord Lonato but even he didn’t think he could convince him against his crusade against Lady Rhea. “What would you have done if you knew?”

Caspar scrunches up his nose, thinking. “I don’t know.” He admits honestly. “Maybe if my dad said something about the reason why they were attacking but I wouldn’t be able to side with him without knowing anything.” He drops down to his knees, fussing with his boots. “I just wish I knew why they were doing this.”

* * *

(7th Day of Lone Tree Moon, 1181)

“The boar is losing it,” Felix says scathingly after Dimitri leaves after breaking yet another weapon. He’s done that since he was young but now it’s almost a daily occurrence. 

“Don’t call him that,” Ingrid snaps, shoving a lance into another dummy’s chest. When they aren’t helping with the monastery’s defense, they’re expected to be training and she, Felix, and Sylvain have all timed their training to happen at the same time. There’s no time for dalliances or indulgences. “He’s under a lot of stress, we all are.” 

Glenn has only written her a quick note, to wish her well and for the goddess to protect them. He’s helping Lord Rodrigue gather up troops in case the Empire decides to attack the Kingdom’s borders. They’ve all lived in relative peace for the past hundred years, an attack like this was unexpected. 

Felix lops off the dummy’s head with ease with another strike. “He’s been losing it since Remire,” he pushes back arguing. “He hasn’t slept well in months.” Since Remire Village, a shadow seemed to haunt their friend. It haunted everyone but the guilt seemed to linger around Dimitri the longest. 

Sylvain sighs in agreement with him. “I don’t mean this the wrong way so don’t slap me, Ingrid.” He warns her, “But honestly, he hasn’t slept well at the monastery at all.” He shakes his head. 

“The only time we don’t hear anything from his room,” he gestures towards him and Felix, “is when El is there. Which seems counter-intuitive to me.” He smirks. Ingrid whacks him on top of his head. “I deserved that,” he admits readily. 

His and Felix's room borders Dimitri’s and Dedue is underneath him. The walls are thin, Ingrid knows well enough. She can hear Marianne’s prayers through the night at times.

“Can anyone sleep well at this time?” Ingrid points out. She puts down her lance, tired. The scouts’ estimate gave them two weeks before the bulk of the Empire’s army was here but the preparation of the monastery’s defenses left them all ragged. No one was allowed in or out of the monastery without prior approval and even so, who would want to leave at a time like this?

“Probably not,” Sylvain agrees. Ingrid’s never been in a real live war before. There have been small skirmishes with bandits, the Western Church, and whatever group Solon and Kronya had been with but to face a real life army was something that she was trained to do but not ready to do.

On the other hand, Sylvain, Felix, and Dimitri all faced Sreng’s invading forces. Sreng could not rival the Empire’s strength. But there were repeated invasions that House Gautier had to prepare for. They were also expecting it. But in this situation, if the Empire intended to fight a war, then the Kingdom had to prepare for it.

“I still can’t believe that it was Ferdinand and Hubert,” Ingrid stresses, jabbing her lance into another dummy. “How could they be involved in such terrible things?” She knew Ferdinand, had lessons on lances with him at least once a month. The Emperor’s heir struck her as a hardworking individual who put far too much pressure on himself. To think he was working with Solon and Kronya. 

Hubert was more of an enigma. El and Annette would know him better but the tall dark figure of the Black Eagles kept to himself. He came to some lance classes but often trained by himself. 

Sylvain scoffs, “No way it was Ferdinand,” he dismisses. “He’s an awful liar.” He leans against the wall, relaxing. “This was Hubert.” Despite the tense situation all around, Sylvain was still relaxed as ever. Ingrid envies him but also wants to shake him. In less than a month, they could all be dead. They could run back to the Kingdom but if Garreg Mach fell, then surely so would the Kingdom and the Alliance.

Nodding his head, Felix agrees. “Ferdinand’s too moral to be involved.” He argues. “He recognized that Metodey guy down there but I don’t think he knew about anything.” Felix frowns, lowering his sword. “He was surprised as we were down there.”

* * *

(15th Day of Lone Tree Moon, 1181)

El hears the twitching and the whimpers before she actually wakes up. She and Dimitri have spent the entire month sleeping in each other’s room. None of the Knights of Seiros have bothered them about it. How could they? There was too much at stake to worry about the impropriety of two people who were already engaged. But this is the first time, she’s heard noises come out of Dimitri.

“Mother, no,” Dimitri moans loudly. “Mother- I’m sorry, please-” El’s eyes pop open as she turns, shaking him away. Dimtri likes to bury his nose into her hair as they sleep and she feels comfort feeling his back behind her.

“Dimitri,” she murmurs quietly. They’re in her room today and she doesn’t want to wake Lysithea. Claude told her about her fear of ghosts and she doesn’t need Dimitri’s mutterings in the night to spook the young girl. “Dimitri, wake up.”

Dimitri swings a fist wildly out and she catches before it can hit her. Dedue never told her about any physical violence from Dimitri so this is new to her. “Dimitri,” she hisses, holding his fist. “Wake up.”

Dimitri’s eyes open and he sees his fist in her hands. “Did I hurt you?” He asks quietly, keeping his eyes down. He pulls his hand away and shoves between his legs. El shakes her head, pulling his hand back into hers. She laces their fingers, intertwining them with a soft smile.

“You never told me that you were dreaming about my mother,” El remarks quietly. Perhaps, it’s heartless of her but she doesn’t miss Patricia. She knew Patricia loved her. But they couldn’t act as mother and daughter. Patricia left Enbarr a long time ago, long before Edelgard could properly remember her. There was no natural bond between the two of them. Dimitri missed her because Patricia was more of a mother to him than she was to her.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Dimitri responds. Even though they’re holding hands, he keeps his eyes down. “It’s not your fault I think about her sometimes.” His shoulders droop as he rubs his eyes with his other arm. They don’t bring her up ever. She certainly hasn’t talked to King Lambert about her mother. Lord Rodrigue said that the king’s second wife wasn’t ever discussed in the capital. Although the outcries for the king to marry a third time never happened. 

“Grief is not a competition,” El corrects gently. She cups the side of Dimitri’s face and makes him look up at her with a sad smile. “You can miss her Dimitri and you can talk to me about her. It won’t hurt me. It’s alright to grieve.” She bumps her forehead against his softly. “I’ve processed losing her and I’ll be alright.”

He grips her hands tight into his. “Thank you El. I don’t think I’ve ever told you this but I’m so happy to have you by my side, now and into the future.” He pulls her close, burrowing his head into her neck, El fitting into his lap. He says, muffled. “I can’t lose you.”

El pats his back, relaxing in his lap. “You won’t,” she soothes. “Not if I can help it.” They sit there for a few moments, El slides her hips over so his legs are in a more comfortable position as Dimitri leans his back squarely against the wall. Dimitri supports her back with his arm and she leans against his chest. It’s not a comfortable position but Dimitri likes feeling her in his lap and he said that she wasn’t too heavy for him at all.

El grasps his hands, feeling the layers of calluses on there. She’s encouraged him to take care of his hands more; she has calluses as well from axe use but Dorothea’s taught her several ways of taking care of the skin there. 

“And you’re okay, with Hubert….?” Dimitri asks quietly trailing off. El sighs, she was waiting for this question. She and Hubert did not interact openly; it would be too suspicious, the Faerghus prince’s fiancee seen speaking to the tall dark figure of the Emperor’s right hand man. Dimitri was the only one who knew that they had been close a lifetime ago.

“I’m not,” El confesses quietly. Her mourning was cut short by letting Raphael and Bernadetta stay in her room so she retreated to Dimitri’s. “I know that Hubert would do anything for the Empire, that’s what the von Vestras do,” she scoffs, shaking her head. “But I can’t believe that he would willingly involve himself with those people.” She says darkly, thinking back to her strange interactions with Tomas and Monica. “That’s not the boy I knew back then.” 

When they were younger, Hubert still had a dour expression on his face that rarely changed. But he was her friend and a co-conspirator in any schemes she had. It hurt to think that he had been involved with so much pain across the monastery. She hadn’t spoken to any of the Black Eagles, save for Bernadetta but the pain they felt was clear at Hubert’s betrayal and Ferdinand’s disappearance. 

And Ferdinand! Goddess, who knew what Ferdinand was feeling. He was clearly taken by surprise by the attack on the Holy Tomb. Ferdinand was an awful liar when he was younger and he didn’t seem to have changed much since then. He always prattled on about how nobles had an allegiance to the common folk and how it was their duty to protect them. 

El had ignored it; they were nine and while Von Aegirs were usually the Prime Ministers of the Empire, it certainly didn’t mean that Ferdinand would lead by Hector’s side. Hector would have been thirty-three if he lived. “There’s nothing I can do but be ready to face him when I see him.” El remarks calmly. “Because when I do, I’ll be ready.”

* * *

(14th Day of Lone Tree Moon, 1181)

Dorothea comes out of a quick Faith seminar with Manuela when she sees Petra. The other professors have tried to continue their classes as normal in preparation for the attack. There won’t be a graduation, for good reason, but as Manuela puts it, “the students can never stop learning.” Professor Byleth has abandoned their teaching all together as Lady Rhea requires them to be with her everyday. Seteth has taken over teaching the Blue Lions as best as he can.

And she’s grateful for it. They’ve been in combat before but a full-on attack like this, well, she’s only ever seen in her operas. Her step quickens when she sees Petra being hassled by some lower members of the Knights of Seiros. 

“- that is not true!” Petra shouts back, her shoulders raised. Her expression is fierce, she looks like when she’s hunting wild prey. Petra’s taken Dorothea a couple of times and it’s a delight to see her in her natural environment. But here, she looks like she’s cornered. 

“Petra, darling.” Dorothea chirps as she slides in next to Petra, taking her hand into hers. “Are these men bothering you?” She smiles slyly. She’s gone on a date with at least one of them and some of their friends and found them all lacking. She had them wrapped around her pinky and knows all their secrets. What can she say, they can’t hold their drink.

The men stiffen and Dorothea’s grin only gets bigger. She could ruin them with a single word in this monastery; word travels quickly and they know it. Even in this tense atmosphere, a little gossip would be appreciated. “Run along boys,” Dorothea orders. “We’re talking right now.” 

The stomping of boots sound throughout the clearing as she and Petra are left alone. Petra’s fierce expression does not leave her face as Dorothea guides her to a bench. This is probably going to be a long discussion.

“Is everything alright?” Dorothea asks softly, brushing back a loose lock of hair. “What were they saying?” Dorothea believes in the goddess but as the year has gone by, she’s noticed that the Church of Seiros and its believers don’t hold that same virtue.

She knows they do a lot of good in the world; Mercedes has mentioned that she and her mother used to live in a church in Faerghus after her vile stepfather threw them out after her baby brother was born. But in Enbarr and the Empire, they don’t have as much influence and she really doesn’t like how they treat outsiders. And in a place as exclusive as the Officer’s Academy that means anyone who isn’t noble born and then some. 

Petra shakes her head, refusing to answer. “I am worry- worried,” she corrects, “about Brigid. I have not received any letters from my grandfather. And-” she cuts herself short. 

Dorothea nods, understanding. “Have they asked you to join the Empire?” She asks quietly. Brigid is a vassal state. Petra has talked about her ambitions to make it an equal to the Empire through her leadership but at this point in time, Brigid is at the mercy of the Empire. If Petra makes any wrong moves at this point, it wouldn’t be good for her homeland.

The Empire may be her home but she’s having a hard time justifying the events going on right now. She was never the most patriotic anyways. 

She shakes her head. “I have not received any letters from anyone. I do not know what to do,” she confesses, shaking a little. Her fierce expression has softened as she looks at Dorothea, pleadingly. “I must protect my home.”

* * *

(21st Day of Lone Tree Moon, 1181)

Linhardt sits at the pond, staring at the line he cast in. He’s been banned from the library and anywhere he can do meaningful research. He understands the reasoning behind it but now it means that he has nothing else he can do. 

He knows his strengths and weaknesses. He can’t help prepare the monastery for its defense. He’d be more of a hindrance than a help in moving the supplies around. If he had any suggestions, which he doesn’t, about the placement of the soldiers, they’d be ignored.

So there really isn’t much for him to do except fish. Byleth has been pulled into constant meetings with Rhea so the procurement of fish lies with other people. Which is just as good, he likes fishing.

He’s not sure how long he’s been doing this for but there’s a basket of live fish next to him. Hopefully there’s enough fish for tonight’s meal because he really can’t be bothered to do this again. Perhaps Professor Hanneman will help him with research. If he is still doing research.

The reason why he isn’t in his room right now is because it’s being raided by the Knights of Seiros. It’s too much effort for him to protest, especially since even if they don’t find anything, they’ll be back again. Looking for evidence that isn’t there. 

It’ll be a pain reorganizing his papers but it’s fine. He had to get them organized once the graduation ceremony happened. Not that it’s going to happen this year but he had to move back home eventually. 

A tap on his shoulder disrupts his thoughts. It’s El, the girl from the Blue Lions House. No crest for her so he’s never been interested in her. But it seems that she has something to say.

“Caspar told me you’d be here,” she says apologetically, kneeling down. “I just wanted to let you know that they were done with your room.” She informs him quietly. She avoids his gaze, looking at the pond. 

“Hmm,” Linhardt answers. “I honestly thought it’d be another ten minutes or so,” he yawns, stretching. “They have a lot of paper to go through.”

“Caspar started yelling at them and I think they figured it was too much to handle.” El tells him, honestly. “It looked like they weren’t finding anything.”

Linhardt nods, “Fair enough. Hard to find something that isn’t there.” He keeps sitting, looking at the fishing line.

“Just wanted to let you,” El says awkwardly, rising from her knees. She takes a few steps, looks back, hesitating. “None of you guys knew, what was going on?” She asks curiously. “I only ask because your parents are part of the Seven that led the Insurrection. They didn’t tell you anything?”

Linhardt eyes her, wondering if it’s worth answering her question. Why not? What’s another question in a month full of questions.

“Nope.” Linhardt answers. “No one told us anything. No one knew, except Hubert, I guess.” It wouldn’t surprise him if Hubert played his cards close to his chest. His father told him about the dark deeds the von Vestras did throughout history and to stay very far away from Hubert if he could. Not that it was hard, Hubert kept to himself most of the time. 

El furrows her brow in thought. Weird question from the future queen of Faerghus but it was her right, he supposed. “I’ll go back to my room later,” he says out loud. “I still need a few more fish for dinner tonight.”

Nodding, El leaves him. Strange girl but what was another character amongst his classmates? When he goes back to his room, he does thank Caspar for shooing away the knights of Seiros. Caspar doesn’t know what he’s talking about, only that El came by looking for him.

* * *

(25th Day of Lone Tree Moon, 1181)

“He really asked you that?” Annette says outraged as they’re kneading bread for tonight’s meal. She and Mercedes are helping in the kitchen today and Annette’s nerves got the best of her so now they’re kneading bread. The physical effort helps a lot. 

In one of Mercedes’s pockets is a letter from her adopted father, asking her to come home. The seal on it was broken when it arrived and Annette knows that Mercedes is probably going to be hassled by one of the minor members of the Knights of Seiros. All the Black Eagles are. When they come, Annette will be ready for them. 

Mercedes nods, sighing. Annette knows that she wants to work within the Church of Seiros but her adopted father has obviously different plans for her. Her adopted father has given her much in life but how much does she need to repay him?

That’s the conundrum, honestly. She and Ferdinand shared many cups of tea when she realized that he too felt the same about his father and his actions. He wouldn’t say it but she had a feeling that when Ferdinand succeeded as Emperor, his father would not be by his side. Mercedes did not have the kind of power that Ferdinand would eventually wield. But he was gone now. 

She’s been with her adopted father for almost half her life. He didn’t have the social connections to make a good enough marriage for her and so he purchased her former title and sent her to schools where he thought she could make good connections. And she did, she made so many friends where she thought she wouldn’t and hoped that they would last beyond their schooling. After all, she and Annette did. 

“I’m not sure what to do,” Mercedes frets. “I owe him a lot.” She looks down at her flour covered hands. Kneading is just as therapeutic for her as it is for Annie.

“He tried to marry you to a slave trader!” Annette protests, outraged for Mercedes. “He ignored all the evidence we found. He only decided against it because the Alliance arrested the guy.” Annette fumes, protective. If Mercedes does what her adopted father wants, it'll be the death of her.

“I can’t leave the monastery anyways,” Mercedes answers simply. “I’ll tell him that Lady Rhea has blocked all movement in and out of the monastery. We don’t know what will happen at the end of the month.” She answers somberly. Annette hesitates, frustrated at Mercedes’ non-answer. But she had a point; the Empire’s army was coming and who knew what their objectives were.

* * *

(29th Day of Lone Tree Moon, 1181)

They’re resting in El’s bed when El leans over and kisses Dimitri. They’ve shared several ever since the night of the ball, but this kiss is different. She cups the sides of his face with her hands, leaning into it. Dimitri leans up, pulling her into his lap. He rests his hands on the small of her back as they continue to kiss.

El pulls apart, gasping and her lips red. Dimitri is the same but looks at her with such loving eyes. “Where did that come from?” He asks quietly, putting his forehead against hers. 

“Not sure,” El answers back. “Just seemed like a good idea.” She leans back a little, shifting her hips. Dimitri squirms a little, a strange look entering his face. “Everything alright? I’m not too heavy, am I?”

“You keep asking that,” Dimitri surmises, shifting her weight closer to him. A warm heat enters her core. It’s only happened a couple of times before, usually when she’s in his lap. “And I’ve told you, you’re perfect. I love you.” He says hesitantly. 

“I love you too,” El leans in, kissing him again. Her lips slid against his and she pushes his hands lower, enjoying the heavy pressure from his hands. She shifts her hips towards his in an attempt to get closer to him. She just had to be close to him right now, so she presses her chest against his, straddling his hips. 

Dimitri immediately groans into her mouth and while she enjoys the sensation, she pulls back again with worry in her face. “Are you okay?” She asks quickly. Dimitri has a habit of lying to her when he thinks it’s for her own good. It’s a habit she’s trying to break.

Dimitri’s cheeks are a soft red as he nods. “I’m fine,” as he tries to pull her back in. El shifts again and feels a slight pressure against her core. She wiggles a little bit before Dimitri stops her, turning a brighter red. “Please stop that,” he commands her gently, holding on her elbow. 

El looks down and sees the small bulge in Dimitri’s pants. “Oh.” she says softly. She looks at Dimitri who avoids her gaze by looking up. Dorothea has told her about this a little. Men and their pleasures. Of course when Dorothea told her, El always turned bright red and had to take a few cups of Bergamot tea to calm down.

She puts a hand down between the two of them softly and massages the bulge gently, trying different pressures on it. She keeps her eyes trained on Dimitri the entire time, seeing what he likes and doesn’t like. He won’t tell her, of course, so she’ll just have to watch him and see what he likes.

Dimitri pants, enjoying her ministrations. Her light fingers dance against his cock as she teases the pleasure out of him. He hasn’t tried to stop her even once although he keeps his gaze towards the ceiling. 

Feeling bolder, she slips a hand in so she can touch it directly. Dimitri bucks once her fingers touch it fully and El jolts. “El, please.” He pleads lightly, finally bringing his gaze down to meet hers. 

El stops immediately. “Do you not like it?” She asks curiously, as she brushes her fingers against it. She can see why Dorothea gets a kick out of it, having someone’s pleasure at her fingertips. She’s barely touched Dimitri’s cock and it seems that he’s having a good time. 

“No!” Dimitri shakes his head. “I just, I thought we weren’t going to do anything until after we married.” He whispers quietly. El pulls her hand out of his pants and leans back, shifting her weight onto Dimitri’s knees.

She tilts her head, thinking. “We’ve never really discussed it,” El points out. She and Dimitri had been remarkably chaste ever since they entered the monastery as both Dorothea and Sylvain pointed out to them, constantly. They kissed and they shared beds together but they hadn’t really touched each other like this at all. “But it’s not like we’re doing anything bad, right?” She justifies, leaning forward again, she plants a hand next to Dimitri’s thigh.

“I’m having a good time, aren’t you?” She asks, almost brushing her lips against Dimitri’s. She sees him swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat and he nods. “We can take it slower, if you’d like.” She says, as her lips touch his ear. “We don’t have to go all the way today.”

“Really?” Dimitri says quietly. El slots his hands back onto her hips, enjoying the sensation. She slides forward, widening her hips so that her core meets his bulge better.

El nods, “I just want to test things out, if that’s ok.” She responds. “We have an entire lifetime to see what we like and don’t like.” She rocks her hips a little, the pressure and the knowledge that Dimitri wants to do her do strange things to him, make her feel a bit more confident about her actions. Perhaps Dorothea rubbed off on her this year. “I have questions anyways.” She says quietly to herself as she rotates her hips. 

“Truly?” Dimitri asks, a moan escaping his mouth. El can feel his hands tighten around her hips as she grinds them once more.

She nods again. An idea enters her head and she shucks off her top, revealing the straps of cloth that she uses to bind her breasts. She’s not as developed as Dorothea or Professor Manuela but Dimitri can’t take his eyes off them. She gets a low thrill out of that, knowing that Dimitri desires her.

“May I?” Dimitri asks quietly, raising a hand. El nods and Dimitri reaches for one of her breasts, massaging it in his palm. El moans softly, enjoying the sensation. “It’s softer than I thought,” Dimitri says in wonder as he gropes it over her bindings. 

She continues rocking her hips, feeling Dimitri’s bulge get bolder. She guides Dimitri’s hand underneath her bindings as his hand easily swallows her breast. She couldn’t describe it at the beginning of the year but the reason why she resents Dimitri being so tall is because he just looms over her. She feels tiny compared to him and with him being able to cup a breast in one hand and a cheek in the other, it only makes the feeling worse. 

“Help me unlace these,” El says breathlessly. To make sure her breasts don’t move in combat or when she’s running, there are lace ties in the front that help with the movement. Rodrigue had flushed so red when he had the maids give it to her. Dimitri’s hands fumble with them before El stops her grinding and unties it for him with a smirk, pulling the brasserie over her shoulders.

Dimitri lets out a loud groan at the sight of them, his hand reaching to brush a nipple. El sighs in contentment as Dimitri fondles them. He leans in with his head before stopping. “May I?” El nods once more as Dimitri takes a nipple in and sucks, his tongue encircling it.

El curses as she bucks her hips. Dimitri keeps sucking as El feels wetness surround her breast. “Oh, Dimitri,” she moans, speeding up her grinding, feeling the bulge press against her core. She wants more. 

She reaches a hand beneath them, pulling out Dimitri’s cock from his pants. There’s a wetness at the slit and El rubs her thumb, smearing it. It’s fully hard and stiff. El isn’t sure why she expected anything different but it’s hotter than she expected. 

She traces her thumb across it, following a vein. Dimitri releases her breast with a loud moan, bucking his hips into her hand. El gets off him as Dimitri leans against the wall, his eyes closed, his cock still in her hand. Another bead of liquid appears and El uses it to help slide her hand up and down. 

She stares at it entranced as Dimitri’s head turns side to side as El continues her ministrations. She adds a twist in her wrist and adds a slight drag with the nail on her thumb. “El,” he groans, thrusting upwards. She gets another idea in her head and moves down, taking the tip into her mouth. 

She feels the heavy weight of his cock against her tongue as Dimitri’s eyes open, watching her swallow it in. It’s salty in an interesting way. Her tongue toys with the underside of the ridge as she continues to move her hand up and down. Dimitri’s moans only get louder as he fists his hands into her bedding. 

She goes down another inch but stops when his cock feels too full in her mouth. Dorothea never told her about this during sex but it seemed like a good idea at the time and she’s too stubborn to stop. El hollows out her cheeks as she continues to suck and move her hand. She moves a strand of hair behind her ear and looks up, her purple eyes meeting Dimitri’s. 

Dimitri is flushed and his pupils are wide as El sucks, her tongue toying with the slit of Dimitri’s cock. Dimitri guides her other hand to cup the balls of his cock. Also a strange sensation as they are firmer than she expected but also the skin that surrounds them is incredibly soft. 

“El,” Dimitri stammers, reaching for her hair. “Oh- I’m,” his hips buck up as she bobs her head, matching the tempo of her hands. He tries to pull her off but he cums instead in her mouth, the thick salty fluid exploding in her mouth. 

El coughs, a bit of it dripping from her mouth. “I’m sorry,” he says, red-faced and ashamed. He removes his uniform shirt offering it to her to wipe her mouth. El waves it off, swallowing the liquid. Dimitri stares at her, astonished and breathing hard.

“Interesting,” El remarks, swirling her tongue around her teeth. She’s managed to swallow the most of it, licking the excess off her lips. Dorothea never mentioned that to her. She grabs the flask of water that she keeps near her bed for when she is thirsty at night and swirls it in her mouth, removing the taste. She drips a little onto her hands so she can remove any remains of her spit from them. “Do you want some?” She asks curiously, offering it to Dimitri. 

“You amaze me sometimes,” Dimitri shakes his head, turning it down. 

“I try,” El shrugs, leaning against Dimitri. He tucks his deflated cock back into his pants awkwardly as they avoid each other’s eyes. “You did like it, though, right?” She asks hesitantly. While at the time it seemed like a good idea, her face burned red at the thought of her almost drooling on top of Dimitri’s cock.

Dimitri nods, vehemently. His face turns a bright red. “Thank you for doing that. I enjoyed it thoroughly,” he compliments clumsily. “Do- do you need anything?” He asks, turning to her. 

“Not really,” El answers sheepishly. Seeing Dimitri in the throes of his pleasure was more than enough for her. Any thoughts about her would feel strange at this point. 

“Are you sure?” Dimitri pushes, “It just seems- you deserve something too, El.” He takes her hand into his. “Like you said, it’s about finding what you and I like and- we- we certainly found something that I like.”

“There is something Dorothea told me about,” El hesitates, her ears flushing red as she looks down. Dorothea told her this over a bit of wine; that she would be lucky if Dimitri knew anything about it. She had told her it would be intense and a little revealing if Dimitri was interested in it. Dorothea certainly sang her praises about it. “It has to do with down there,” she stammers, looking down. 

When she was pleasing Dimitri, it was certainly easy to feign confidence. After all, it was Dimitri who did most of the reacting. But she would have to give up a bit of control to Dimitri as she revealed a more intimate bit that others rarely saw. 

“I should take off my shorts,” El says awkwardly, getting off her bed. She looks at the wall awkwardly, wincing. Poor Lysithea, if the girl was awake there was a chance she could hear what was going on in El’s room. “Can we move my bed too?” She asks feebly. 

Dimitri looks at the wall too and winces. He remembers how loud he was groaning. He moves El’s desk and slides her bed against the other wall, the one she doesn’t share with anyone while El busies herself removing her shorts and her tights. 

Her mouth goes dry as she watches Dimitri’s muscle ripple on his back as he moves her furniture with ease. Somehow, this idea is becoming more attractive to her. She hesitates over removing her cotton undergarments. She doesn’t feel completely ready to be full nude in front of Dimitri.

He eyes her hungrily, his eyes sweeping over her thighs and her breasts. He clears his throat. “How do you want to do this?” He asks intently.

“Back against the wall,” she orders him again. Dimitri climbs onto her bed, leaning against it fully. She follows, kneeling on her bed as well. She turns and makes sure that her backside is fully flushed against Dimitri’s crotch. She angles her legs to make sure that they’re split and her crotch rides one of Dimitri’s thighs. She mutters at the position, commenting. “This seemed like a better idea in my head.”

“What’s the idea?” Dimitri’s hot breath echoes against her ear as he pulls her so her back is flush against Dimitri’s chest. Suddenly, the idea made a lot more sense as he gropes at one of her breasts. 

El sighs into his touch, shifting her hips to make herself more comfortable. With his other hand, Dimitri grasps at her thigh, feeling the muscle beneath. It’s a comfortable position for them both but not what El intended. 

She guides his hand that was pawing at her thigh to underneath her garments. She squirms at the touch. She hasn’t touched herself there and is only going off Dorothea’s very descriptive wording. Dimitri threads his fingers through the tawny patch of curls, rubbing at her mound. When he touches the lips down there, El shudders at the contact.

“El, tell me what to do,” Dimitri asks, his voice murmuring at her ear, his fingers dip between her folds into her opening and feeling the wetness inside. She feels full as Dimitri’s thick fingers rub inside of her. But it’s not the sensation she was expecting.

“There should be a little nub there,” El instructs him. “Just touch it when you find it.” Dorothea called it a “clit” and said that it was how most women felt pleasure during sex.

Dimitri’s fingers travel slightly upwards as they brush what El can only describe as a button that sits atop her opening. Her hips buck as the sensation travels through her and she pants. That must be what Dorothea was describing to her. 

Dimitri uses his other hand that was kneading her breast to hold her steady around her stomach. “Just keep rubbing there?” He asks quickly as El gasps hard at the touch. El nods fervently as Dimitri returns to that small button that contained so much pleasure. 

Dimitri starts slow, his fingers circling her clit and rubbing it between his two fingers. El squirms at the feeling, her hips shifting over his. He groans momentarily before refocusing his efforts on El. His fingers continue to rub at her clit, occasionally dipping his fingers into her cunt, feeling her wetness. It felt better the wetter it became, they both noticed.

His fingers glide over as he slips one and then two fingers into her cunt, feeling the tightness inside. El moans at the sensation, stretching her legs out. She pants and begs at Dimitri, too lost in her pleasure. Her hips shake as she cries out pleadingly. 

He holds her close with the same arm around her, keeping her from sliding down. He sucks his mouth at the side of her throat, leaving several marks there. He plunges his fingers back and forth into her cunt, stretching her out. They return back to her clit, fully soaked as Dimitri rubs faster, the bundle of nerves eagerly taking the lubrication.

El’s head lolls as her chin tilts up as she pants harder. “Dimitri,” she moans, her legs threatening to tighten around his hand as he keeps his ministrations up. Dimitri wraps his arm around one thigh, keeping her splayed out he focuses on pleasing her.

She begins to tremble as her pleasure overtakes her and Dimitri continues his rubbing of her cunt. “Come on El,” he grunts into her ear as she begins to plead louder. He dips three fingers into her opening, feeling her stretch. She claws at his arm, her hips rising into the air. They return back to the clit with renewed vigor.

“Oh- Dimitri, don’t stop,” she pleads, her heart beating fast. All she can feel is Dimitri as he continues. “Dimitri-!” An explosion behind her eyes as her legs go numb and she goes limp.

When she wakes up, she’s resting her head against Dimitri’s chest in his lap. She feels a familiar pressure on her thigh as she squirms. She looks up, meeting Dimitri’s eyes. “Did I pass out?” She asks, genuinely curious. 

Dimitri kisses her forehead, “You did.” He confirms, brushing back one of her locks. “I wasn’t expecting that,” he remarks calmly, adjusting her hips on top of him. She hadn’t either, Dorothea led her to think that her first time would not be a pleasurable one but so far, it was turning out to be excellent.

El shakes her head, “Neither did I.” She says candidly. She looks down at the same bulge that greeted her before. She looks up, raising a delicate brow. 

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri apologizes, pink faced. “You were- you were rubbing up against me so nicely.” He explains, blushing. She had been moving her hips a lot against his crotch. “It has a mind of its own.”

“That’s fine,” El says, pushing her lips against his, feeling renewed and hungry for more. She pulls out his cock from his pants one more time. “The night is long and we have lots to explore.” 

* * *

(30th Day of Lone Tree Moon, 1181)

El corners her after another short Faith seminar with Manuela, a strange look on her face. A look that she immediately diagnoses. She doesn’t need to say anything, Dorothea already knows what she’s going to ask.

“So you did it?” Dorothea asks teasingly. El flushes and squeaks, turning a delightful pink hue. She had heard Lysithea complaining about strange ghosts in the night and Dorothea knew where she slept.

“We didn’t- he didn’t go inside of me,” El corrects, blushing red. She pulls her over to an empty classroom. “We just- touched each other. A lot.” She looks so adorable; when she first met El, she seemed so confident and powerful. It was nice to know that even she could be reduced to a blushing maiden. 

“So what’s the problem?” Dorothea arches her brow. Some nobles were fussy, waiting for marriage to fully seal the deal. Others, like Sylvain, weren’t. She had slept with him a few times, just to release some tension and she could admit it. It wasn’t just his looks that got so many girls into his bed. 

El huffs, still pink. “He’s- he’s big.” She whispers, looking around for any eavesdroppers. “Too big. And I’m small.” She looks down, her fingers grasping at each other. 

Dorothea reaches for El’s arm. “He didn’t try to- '' The lecture she would have for him would be scathing even if he was the future king of Faerghus.

El shakes her head quickly. “Dimitri would never- he would never hurt me.” Her lips begin to form words, silently. “But we- we want to- and I want to,” she declares quietly. “And I think I want it to be tonight but if it hurts, if it hurts me, Dimitri will never want to do it again.” She explains softly.

Dorothea tilts her head thoughtfully. A little sickeningly sweet and she can’t help but be a little jealous. But El’s her friend and she wants to make her happy. “You need to be as comfortable as possible,” Dorothea informs her flatly. “Usually an orgasm or two will help do the trick,” as she sits El down for a very long talk. Dimitri is tall and El is short and if they’re not careful then El could be in a lot of pain. 

“Not a problem,” El mutters underneath her breath as she looks away.

“Oh?” Dorothea teases. “That’s impressive.” She smirks at El who turns an even brighter red. “He did it all by himself?” She asks curiously. Most men who are inexperienced tend to ignore the existence of female orgasms and that’s even with those who are experienced. Sylvain didn’t, which also attributed to the many female visitors to his bed. Dorothea wouldn’t have slept with him if he didn’t know what he was doing.

El nods. “I just pointed him in the right direction, I guess.” She waves a hand off. “It was really great, last night and I want to do it again,” she explains, her eyes going far away. A good orgasm will do it for a girl. Dimitri does strike her as someone who is eager to please. 

“You’ll need to take your time,” Dorothea continues with her explanation. “Take it slow, especially if he is as big as you say he is.” She banters with El who stays bright red. “You’ll want to be in a position where you can control the pace, Dimitri seems sweet and all but that boy does not know his own strength.”

She brushes a finger against El’s collar, pulling it down slightly to reveal a series of kiss marks covering her neck. “Case in point,” she teases as El flushes red, pulling her collar back up. It seems that Dimitri is a marker, covering El with what the opera calls “love bites”. “But he’s been gentle with you?” She asks, tapping her fingers.

El nods, “More than gentle. He keeps asking me if I’m okay,” she says with a slight frown. In the year Dorothea has known El, she strikes her as a real go-getter and ambitious. Dimitri was one to react to things, never initiating unless he had to. 

“That just means he’s been raised to be a gentleman,” Dorothea responds lightly. “Cherish that El, most men aren’t,” she emphasizes strongly. El nods again, understanding. Dorothea didn’t take K. Howard’s song because it was just more than a song with her. El didn’t have that kind of baggage.

“Let’s go to my room,” she offers an outstretched arm to her. “I have some things that might come in handy. Things that will make it easier.”

* * *

(30th Day of Lone Tree Moon, 1181)

A meeting is called by Lady Rhea and Seteth. Word has been received that the Imperial Army is on the move. They will be there within a day. The defenses have been prepared as best they can during the month but there is a chance that it will not hold. They will need to be ready as it is a fight they cannot lose.

* * *

(30th Day of Lone Tree Moon, 1181)

El is reading a book in bed while Dimitri meets with Lady Rhea, Seteth, Claude, and the other professors about the planned defenses for the monastery. Each professor will lead their houses as part of the defense, filling the gaps where the Knights of Seiros cannot defend. It’s been explained that while they wish the students did not have to fight, it’s a luxury they cannot afford. 

She feels odd, reading a book right now but there’s nothing they can do at this point. The walls have been barricaded and everything is in position. All they can do is wait. 

She cannot tell if her nerves are from the impending war or what she has planned tonight. Her door opens and she looks over her shoulder to see Dimitri with a concerned look on his face. 

El turns, rotating on the bed and closing the book. “Everything ok?” She asks quietly as Dimitri sits down on the bed with her. She cups Dimitri’s face with her hand, brushing away a lock of hair. 

Dimitri nods. “Just the meeting, we’ll have to be ready for tomorrow,” he states quietly. He butts his forehead against hers and pulls her into his lap, resting his head against her shoulder. He slides his hands under her top, resting them against the small of her back.

El rubs his back soothingly and places her chin on top of his forehead. When nervous or stressed, Dimitri liked to get physically affectionate. It became clear after the Tragedy of Kleiman and with every succeeding stressful mission, Dimitri liked to pull her in closer and closer. 

As much as Sylvain and Dorothea liked to tease, it was a wonder that they only had their first kiss almost three months ago.

“We’ll be okay,” El remarks calmly, closing her eyes. “We’ve trained for this.” All three houses were incredibly close, the inter-house friendships not uncommon. They had to be prepared for anything and the Officer’s Academy did an excellent job of that. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t been trained to kill, it was more the large scale of things. 

It was rumored that the approaching Imperial Army numbered hundreds, a large enough force to take out Garreg Mach Monastery but small enough to muster without being noticed. 

Dimitri looks up and kisses her, which El kisses back greedily. They’ve been apart for most of the day, other than when they first woke up, exhausted after the night. She moves her legs, wrapping them around Dimitri and kisses him deeply, hungrily. She’ll never say this to Sylvain but she understands why- to feel so connected to someone, it was exhilarating.

She slips out of her night gown, feeling the cool fabric of her bedding against her bare skin. Dimitri looks at her with the same hunger from last night and with love in his eyes. “Sorry,” he apologies, brushing a hand over her neck, referring to the multiple dark marks that adorned her slim throat. 

El rolls her eyes, “It’s fine,” she responds lightly. “Dorothea’s already teased me twice about them but given what we discussed today, she has enough material to last a lifetime.” She leans back in, slotting her lips over his, meeting them headily. She rubs her hips over his groin, causing Dimitri to moan into her mouth. She helps Dimitri remove his tunic, detaching the blue cape from it. 

“She gave me something,” she murmurs, referring to the small glass bottle on her desk. “It’ll help when you enter me,” she explains quietly. It’s not quite nighttime at the monastery but the sun will set within the hour and they need to be well-rested for tomorrow. It just means they’ll have to start early then.

Blushing red, “Ah- Sylvain gave me something as well,” Dimitri adds, pulling out a similar looking glass bottle out of his pocket. “He said to use a lot of it.”

El pauses in her grinding, feeling the same heated pressure from Dimitri’s cock. “You told Sylvain?” She only told Dorothea because well, Dorothea wasn’t shy about detailing her experiences with El and she was comfortable with Dorothea. Certainly, Ingrid wouldn’t have any experiences and she wouldn’t want to hear about it, seeing Glenn as an older sibling figure.

Dimitri nods and hesitates. “He guessed when he saw me,” he says, “When I went back to my room.” He describes, turning brighter and brighter red. “He told me to wait there and went to his room to grab it. He winked at me and told me to use lots of it.”

El covers her eyes. “Remind me to avoid him tomorrow,” she groans to herself. If Dorothea was crass, at least she was crass in private. Sylvain could be crass in public and he didn’t care. 

Dimitri pushes her down, rubbing his hands over her firm thighs. She spreads her legs shyly as Dimitri dips his hands towards the area where her cunt meets her thighs. 

He had eaten her out yesterday but exposing herself to him still felt strange. Dimitri notices her hesitation and stops, his hands retreating to her mid-thigh, massaging the supple flesh. “Everything okay?” He asks quietly, the touch of his calluses against her soft skin making her groan.

El nods, “You can keep going,” she instructs him gently. Dimitri’s hands return back to her undergarments, slipping a thumb underneath to rub the opening of her cunt. Dimitri had been enthusiastic about getting her off and she shared the same enthusiasm but still, this was a strange feeling.

She tenses when Dimitri applies pressure to her cunt, slipping his thumb in to rub at her clit and he leans down to kiss her. His thumb keeps rubbing and her hips jerk. El’s hands go down to her undergarments and Dimitri pauses in his ministrations to slide them off her. She places a cool hand around Dimitri’s neck as they continue to kiss and Dimitri begins to finger-fuck her in earnest, swapping between rubbing her clit and fingering her. 

“Dimitri, please-” His thick fingers begin to plunge in and out of her cunt and she begins to mewl, her hips thrusting up to meet him. 

El could feel the orgasm approaching, her body tensed and shivered. She could almost swear that her cunt was tightening up in preparation. It comes in full force when Dimitri tweaks a nipple with his other hand and the added sensation is too much for El. 

She keens, her chest rising up to meet Dimitri as she writhes from the strength of her orgasm. She pants, breathing hard as she tries to catch her breath. Feeling boneless, Dimitri lifts her bare leg over his shoulder until his face is met with her dripping cunt. 

“Dimitri,” she tries to slide away. “You don’t- you don’t have to,” Dorothea said that she had to be relaxed. The orgasm that Dimitri helped her achieve would be more than enough to get her ready.

Dimitri pulls her back down. “And if I want to?” His dark blue eyes meet hers readily as he holds onto her thighs. 

“Okay,” El relents and turns her head, looking to the side. She did not want to watch Dimitri put his mouth on her, no matter how good it felt. 

Dimitri parts her folds and she can feel his breath on her as he puts his mouth on her, his tongue sliding around her clit. It’s a completely different sensation compared to when he was fingering her. His mouth is warm and wet as he sucks and he dips his fingers back into her, stretching her wide. 

His tongue enters her, probing her and El arches her back, feeling a small wave of pleasure. Dorothea said that achieving a female orgasm was sometimes difficult for a man but under Dimitri’s careful hands, it seemed anything but. 

He uses his thumb to rub at her clit once more as he plunges his tongue into her and El can feel the waves of pleasure overcome once again. El lets her eyes drift back down and she sees Dimitri’s dark eyes focused on her wholly. It strikes her, just how much Dimitri cares for her. 

The second orgasm isn’t as overwhelming. She grasps at Dimitri’s head when the wave hits, garbled words coming out of her mouth. Her hands scramble at his shoulders, wanting him to come back up. If she has a third orgasm in such quick succession, her body will go numb. 

Dimitri assents, moving her leg off his shoulder and wiping his slick covered mouth with a forearm as El pants, her head supported by a pillow. Dorothea was right, she was lucky to have Dimitri in her life. 

“Do you want me to-?” El asks, rubbing at his bulge. It’s been about her this entire time and she needs to rectify that.

Dimitri shakes his head, admitting. “If you do anything, I might cum on the spot.” He grabs the small bottle of oil from the floor where he put it. “I think Sylvain said to put it on before,” he gestures, unable to finish his sentence while turning red. 

El nods, “Dorothea said the same thing.” She admits but the famed songstress had gone into much further detail. Dimitri slides off his pants and his undergarments in one go, his cock firmly erect. El feels her mouth water, imaging it inside of her. Would it be like Dimitri’s fingers, stretching her to her fullest or would it be something completely different. “I can do it,” El says eagerly, reaching out for the small bottle of oil. 

She uncaps it and lets the oil drizzle on to her hands. “She said to warm it up,” El murmurs, rubbing it between her palms. Dimitri sits as El leans over, her small hands stroking it fully. She uses both hands to rub the oil onto his cock, her fingers barely touching, making it slick. When his cock shines from the oil, El sits back on her knees, waiting. Unfortunately Dorothea didn’t have any ideas about the best position to do this. But she did mention about wet spots so El grabs a towel, placing it beneath her hips. 

She goes on her back, spreading her legs invitingly. Dimitri looms over her, planting a hand above her head. “Ready?” He asks quietly.

“Yes.”

He guides the head of his cock past her folds into her entrance and El groans at the intrusion. It is much different from Dimitri’s fingers as his cock is stiff but warm. Dimitri moans, stopping for a moment before pressing on.

His cock slides slowly into her, inch by inch. It’s not hurting but it is a strange sensation. She feels full even though Dimitri isn’t all the way in yet. He sinks in a little further and it’s a strange pulling sensation that she feels.

“Wait,” she asks and Dimitri instantly stops, breathing hard. She pulls her knees back, spreading herself even more wide open. “Okay,” she nods and Dimitri continues on. 

He fills her to the hilt and El feels incredibly full. Dimitri leans down for a brief kiss that El deepens, leaning up to meet him. “Good?” He asks straining, rubbing the soft flesh of her underthigh. El nods and he pulls back and El feels empty but then he moves forward and perhaps finally El understands. 

He thrusts shallowly, barely going out before going back in and El moans, tossing her head back. Dimitri leans back down, sucking a small mark onto her neck that he releases quickly as he continues to thrust, his hips meeting hers with every move.

“Dimitri,” El keens as she shifts her hips around, trying to tilt them upwards for a better angle. 

“Oh- El,” Dimitri moans, grabbing at her hips, speeding up. She could intimately feel every move, his heavy cock sliding in and out of her. 

She releases her legs, dipping a hand down between them and begins to rub her clit. Sparks began to appear behind her eyes as the pleasure mounted.

Dimitri moves her leg back over his shoulder, planting both elbows by her sides and buries his face into her neck. This new angle allows him to thrust in a different angle, providing a new kind of pleasure. He is gasping, she could feel the puffs of air as he was slowly losing control. 

“Dimitri,” she pleads, feeling herself tense. She is close, she knows it. She shudders once the orgasm hits and her cunt begins to tighten.

“El!” Dimitri groans as his pace becomes more frantic and uneven. El claws at his shoulders, feeling the full weight of his cock inside of her as she came. He buries his head into her shoulder.

Dimitri comes a few moments after and she can feel his come spurting into her, making her even more wet and full. Dimitri slides her leg off his shoulder and collapses on top of her, breath hard. He rests his head against her chest as they breathe hard, feeling exhausted.

She wiggles her hips weakly, feeling how hard his cock still was even after he came, something that Dorothea warned her about. 

“Please don’t,” Dimitri stills her hips with a touch. She looks at him expectantly.

“You’re still hard,” El points out, shifting her hips to make a point. “I’d prefer to end this night on an even score,” she teases, brushing strands of loose hair out of her eyes. She nudges at Dimitri who gets off her reluctantly, his cock sliding out of her with a wet gush. They both look down at the mess. “Good thing Dorothea recommended the towel,” El remarks quietly. 

Dimitri is still clearly hard as his erection stands proud, jutting from his body as much as he would like to deny. Still breathing hard, El swings a leg over Dimitri, guiding his cock back into her aching core. She lowers her hips as she gently slides down his cock, planting her hands on Dimitri’s firm chest. She’s still slick enough that she doesn’t need more oil to help Dimitri inside of her. When her bottom is flush against Dimitri’s cock, she waits adjusting to the pressure inside of her. 

She shifts her hips against his, trying to get more comfortable. She hisses as she sinks down onto his cock and Dimitri moans, tossing his head back. She pauses, an idea entering her head. She brings her knees close to Dimitri’s thighs and grinds her hips in a circular motion, feeling Dimitri’s cock rub against her insides. 

Dimitri seems to enjoy it, his hands scrambling in her sheets. Her hips move over Dimitri’s, trying to set a pace while on top of him. Her hands go to his chest, feeling her breasts bounce with every move. Nothing sticks but the uneven pace doesn’t seem to bother her or Dimitri as he begins to buck up, thrusting into her. 

“Oh,” El moans, flattening her body against Dimitri’s. Her hips dance as her breasts rub up against Dimitri and Dimitri grabs her hips for more leverage. They’re a grinding mess at this point as Dimitri begins to rut against her and El is left motionless as Dimitri thrusts in her. “Dimitri, please-” her mewls are cut off as Dimitri kisses her, a searing motion that makes her feel like she’s being eaten alive.

The same rising sensation begins to flow through her as her body begins to tense with every thrust. El pulls away from the kiss, looking fevered as her the sensation in her body begins to climb. Her hips begin to grind as she tries to push herself and Dimitri over the edge with their shared pleasure. 

Dimitri grabs at El’s backside, his nails digging in when she comes, not breaking skin but certainly bruising. “El-” Dimitri chokes out as he comes too, the spurts of come entering El. She lays her head on his chest as they breathe harshly, the exertion of their activities exhausting them.

She can feel him softening inside of her and she knows that she should move, she should clean up but she wants to enjoy this moment. Who knows when the next time they will both be like this?

* * *

(31st Day of Lone Tree Moon, 1181)

They hear the soldiers before they see them, the war drums echoing through the air. They are coming. 

Those defending the monastery scramble into their positions, magic and bows aimed at the ready. The walls of Garreg Mach Monastery are high but the gates will not hold forever. 

Pits and stakes litter the pathway to the monastery, intent on slowing whatever forces break through the walls. It is the best they can do in such a short amount of time. They also hear the screeching of Demonic Beasts in the distance, this will add another wrinkle to the battle. 

They’ve trained to fight Demonic Beasts but any second focusing on those monsters means their attention will be directed away from their human opponents, those who are dangerous with their intentions. 

Garreg Mach Monastery has many gates that lead into the academy. They are all manned by gatekeepers but the main gate is the front gate and that will be where the students are stationed. It is the easiest way in or out of the monastery and is where the Imperial Army will focus the most on. 

Despite their efforts, the Imperial Army breaks through the gate easily, they are momentarily stopped by impaling themselves on the stakes and falling into the pits, but they easily avoid and overwhelm the barricades. 

It’s chaos, the defensive line is broken. Word comes that reinforcements will be there but they must hold the line. From the walls, bows and magic rain down as the infantry and cavalry beat back the men who were able to make it inside the walls. 

After frantic fighting, reinforcements appear and it almost seems as if the day is won but the Demonic Beast screeching grows louder and louder. The sounds of heavy stomping boots come closer as the ground shakes. 

A large force, bigger than the one reported by Shamir and her spies, comes out of the forest, flooding the lands below Garreg Mach Monastery. They have no hope- Garreg Mach Monastery will fall. 

Standing on the walls is Lady Rhea, who fought by the side of her soldiers and realizes that the tide is turning against their favor. She knows what she must do. 

“Protect everyone,” she mouths to Professor Byleth before removing her shawl and her headwear. A blinding green light flashes and a large pale dragon emerges from the light and takes off into the air. 

“The Immaculate One….” El murmurs, pausing in the fighting to watch Lady Rhea take to the skies. “It’s her?” She recognizes the dragon like figure from the drawing that Claude showed her months ago. She meets his eyes as he looks down from the sky, his mouth agape. He dodges an axe blow, reloading quickly and strikes down his opponent. 

El refocuses, swinging her axe mightily. There is no time for healing so she favors her axe, burying it deep into the chest of her enemies. She wishes she could return to the peaceful night that she and Dimitri shared but she must survive if she ever wants to go back to those days. She keeps fighting, not realizing the many eyes upon her. 

The tide seems to be turning as the Immaculate One does incredible damage against the Imperial Army. It does not seem that they were prepared to fight a centuries old beast, one far more powerful than any monster their leaders could raise.

Then the Demonic Beasts that were heard in the distance finally appear and there are more than a dozen of them, all feral and untamed. They make a direct line for the Immaculate One, launching themselves into the air to take her down, their bodies thundering the ground with the Immaculate One on the ground with them.

Their one advantage gone, taken down by the human created monsters. Professor Byleth, instructed by Lady Rhea to stay out of the fray and inside the monastery, throws themselves into the fight with the Sword of the Creator by their side. It’s a short victory as they use their blade to defend the Immaculate One but it’s a pyrrhic one as they go missing directly after that, their presence disappearing from Fodlan forever.

In the few short moments after the Demonic Beasts appear and fall, the sound of retreat comes for the Imperial Army. The battle is not over but a strategic victory is won. They will retreat from Garreg Mach Monastery with their prizes in hand.

When the Imperial Army retreats after the Demonic Beasts were defeated, chaos emerges. Why would the Imperial Army flee when victory was all but assured for them? Then it becomes clear that Lady Rhea is missing from the monastery as is Professor Byleth. And many other students and members of the Knights of Seiros who have lost their life, including El von Arundel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part 2! Let me know what you think in the comments :) 
> 
> Please note: I'm taking a two week break from updating just so I can get a little buffer room for Part 4. I'm progressing well into Part 4 but because I had some periods of writer's block during Part 3, I don't have as much buffer room as I would like. So it's going to be two weeks before I start updating with Part 3.


	19. Part III Chapter I

* * *

(20th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1185)

“Dimitri,” his father frets, “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Since Garreg Mach fell five years ago, his father has aged. They fled to Fhirdiad after it fell where part of Dimitri died. All the loss and stress from this war makes his father look like an older man, despite only being in his mid 40s. Perhaps it is the knowledge that with every day that passes, the Empire could be preparing an attack on its shared borders. But if King Lambert was to lose his only son, his heir, his grief that he has endured could not compare. 

“Yes father,” Dimitri maintains, “I must hold hope that we can end this war with the Empire. We need peace for our people. They don’t deserve to live in fear.” Due to his disability, Dimitri has taken over his father’s duties on the battlefield. By his side, his friends in Eastern Faerghus lead the fight. Those in Western Faergus cannot be trusted; their loyalties change by the day.“We will be careful,” he states calmly, he grasps his father’s hand with a slight smile. “I will come back to you.”

Lambert nods and stands up, leaning heavily on his cane. “You should leave soon then,” he says quietly. “The Millenium Festival awaits you.” They walk from his office, now on the ground floor, to the entrance hall, where their company is waiting for them. The former class of the Blue Lions will travel in a group to Garreg Mach, showing their support for the Royal Family.

Since Garreg Mach fell five years ago, there has not been open war. The Kingdom and the Alliance waited for months for signs of an attack from the Empire, but none came. The borders are heavily guarded and patrolled but there are no battles. As a result, peace talks have been tentatively suggested. They will be hosted at Garreg Mach, which was abandoned by the Church of Seiros. It will happen on the day of the Millenium Festival. Those attending hope that these talks will be successful and the talks of war will cease.

Lambert escorts his son to the main hall where his childhood friends are waiting for him. They are the bulk of his support as Eastern Faerghus will always hold strong for Fhirdiad. 

Sylvain has not yet succeeded his father as Margrave but he has been his representative ever since the fall of Officer’s Academy. Felix serves as the Shield of Faerghus, albeit reluctantly, as his father and brother cannot serve. Lord Rodrigue and Glenn took over the diplomatic duties. They correspond with both the Empire and the Alliance. Glenn writes to Claude almost monthly while Rodrigue exchanges letters with Duke Gerth of the Empire.

Two years ago, Ingrid and Glenn married each other. It was a small ceremony. They have yet to start their new family. The threat of war stops them.

She inherited her duties from her father when she took Luin and married Glenn. Dedue remained by his side as loyal as ever, supporting him when he needed it. 

“Your majesty,” Mercedes curtsies towards King Lambert and Dimitri, keeping her eyes down. She has cut her hair short and keeps it covered with a veil. 

“Sweetheart,” Dimitri offers his arm to her as they head towards the carriage. With Cornelia being stationed in Arianrhod, Mercedes has taken over the medical section in Fhirdiad, ensuring their people stay healthy. She fled to the Kingdom four years ago after the fall of the monastery and joined Dimitri’s side as his fiancee. They will not marry until after the war is over. 

“Safe travels, my son.” King Lambert embraces Dimitri tightly and closes his eyes, he cannot lose his son too. Dimitri nods and they depart for Garreg Mach Monastery for the first time in five years.

Mercedes will ride in a carriage while Dimitri leads on horseback with Ingrid and Dedue in the air and Sylvain and Felix by his side.

King Lambert fears that there is an ambush waiting for Dimitri at Garreg Mach. The Empire made promises that this will be peaceful but it matters little if they die at Garreg Mach. But the Kingdom must risk it. Claude and the Alliance have promised to be there as well. Glenn wrote to Claude for six months before he promised his appearance.

Dimitri needs to go to the peace talks because the threat of attack is constant. If the Empire marches on both the Kingdom and the Alliance, there will be nobles who will defect and turn on their country. They cannot risk it. They will concede even parts of their country for peace. This is not an easy task for anyone. 

* * *

(20th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1185)

“Dorothea!” Caspar tackles the famed songstress in the courtyard with Bernadetta and Linhardt not far behind. They’ve just arrived from Alliance territory with Ignatz and Raphael. 

“Caspie!” Dorothea shrieks, embracing him tightly. “Oh, Bernie, Lin, it’s so good to see you both~,” she coos, looking over them. She tilts her head. “Did you both grow taller?” The two of them are eye level with her when they used to be amongst the shorter members of their house. Petra might even be a little shorter than Bernadetta.

“Told ya,” Caspar elbows Bernadetta with a grin. “Yup!” He says proudly. “We both did some major growing.” Caspar’s spiked mohawk is now sideswept as he wears heavy armor befitting a warrior. They both look well, Bernadetta even has a little bit of a tan, compared to when she used to be Adrestian pale at the Officer’s Academy.

“It’s good to see you,” Bernadetta smiles shyly, still looking down. An improvement compared to where she used to be five years ago though. Her hair is neatly styled and even combed. Locks of hair drape over her shoulders as she has her bow and arrows slung around her waist.

“You’re looking good,” Linhardt yawns, stretching his back. Caspar ran off when he saw the dark red dress and long brown hair of their former classmate and Bernadetta and Linhardt had to scramble behind him. 

“I’m glad we were able to keep our promises,” referring back to their promise they made five years ago at the Winter Ball. They all promised that they would come back to the monastery to celebrate the Millenium Festival. They kept that promise, one way or another.

Dorothea preens, tossing her long brown hair behind her. “Thanks Lin,” she grins brightly. “It’s so good to see you.” She says again. “After how everything ended the last time we saw each other….” She stops softly. After Garreg Mach was left in shambles with the Archbishop’s disappearance, the students all went home, herself included. She spared tears for her lost friends and classmates but she had to go back to surviving.

She returned to the stiff stage of the opera with Professor Manuela by her side. The Mittlefrank Opera was more than happy to accept their beloved former star back onto the stage and even with the war going on, they performed to sold out crowds every night, earning numerous donations. 

All three of them look down. She hadn’t seen them in the five years, which was unexpected considering their place in Enbarr politics. “What have you been up to?” She asks curiously. 

She hadn’t seen any of them in the five years. She thought she would have seen them in Enbarr, given who their parents were. But when she didn’t, it made her sad. But the reception she received here with them was warm. She tried to ask around in Enbarr about the families of the Seven but no one seemed interested in talking to her, especially after the removal of the three of the families of the Seven. When men talked to her, they rarely wanted to talk about politics, only themselves.

Caspar rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “About that…” All three of them avoid her gaze nervously.

“Bernie!” Raphael comes over, bumbling as always. “Ignatz and I will be in the meal hall,” he says loudly. The people from the Alliance and the Kingdom came to Garreg Mach early to ensure the Empire hadn’t planned any attacks. The dining hall was running just as it had done all those years ago. 

“Hey Dorothea,” he greets with a jerk of his chin. “You look great.” He places a hand on Bernadetta’s back. They glance at each other. Raphael towers over Bernadetta but Bernie smiles at Raphael. 

“Good to see you too Raphael,” Dorothea says with an appraising look. She glances over at Linhardt, who rolls his eyes as Bernie flushes red. 

“That’s okay,” Bernadetta smiles and Raphael nods, walking away, heading to the dining hall just like five years ago.

Dorothea raises a finely groomed brow. What an interesting thought. She knew that Raphael and Bernadetta had a soft spot for each other at the Officer’s Academy but she hadn’t expected this. The notorious big eater shared his meals with Bernadetta for goodness sake.

“Soooo, we didn’t go back home,” Caspar explains, shoving his hands into his pants awkwardly. Dorothea stares at him, mouth slightly agape. She was expecting a lot of things but she wasn’t expecting that.

“What.” She stares at Linhardt, unable to imagine what she thinks Caspar is suggesting. She’s not surprised about Caspar, but Lin? The boy who could be found sleeping half the time?

“It’s true,” Linhardt sighs, reluctantly. “We disinherited our family and have been living off the land ever since.” He jerks a thumb at Caspar, “He somehow convinced me that it would be more trouble than it was worth going back home.” He shakes his head. Dorothea blinks, this was a surprise to her. To think that all three of them would leave their homes without a second thought.

“You too?” Dorothea asks Bernadetta questioningly. Little shy Bernie not hiding in her room? She thought Bernie would have stayed hidden from the world as long as she could.

Bernadetta nods quickly. “I didn’t want to go back home,” she represses a shiver. “Raphael invited me to travel back to the Alliance with him and Ignatz. I said yes.” She intertwines her fingers shyly. “And I really like it,” she says hesitantly. That is impressive but not surprising given what she just saw.

“Anyways,” Caspar bursts in. “We ran into each other like two years ago? And they’ve been running a mean merchant protection business and we asked if we could help out.” He grins, smiling. Dorothea felt a twinge of jealousy. Other than Petra who she saw on occasion due to her residency in Enbarr, this was the first of the three houses she saw since the fall of Garreg Mach. 

“We make a pretty good team. Linhardt heals us and Bernie and Ignatz keep an eye out for any bandits and if they spot them, me and Raphael get to smash them. Raphael’s little sister Maya runs the numbers for us. World’s a lot bigger than I thought.” Caspar swings his arms out, resting them behind his head.

“That’s good,” Dorothea nods, smiling. She’s happy for them; all three of them were not your typical nobles and it didn’t surprise her that they chose such alternative lifestyles.

“Have you seen the others?” Bernadetta asks curiously, looking at Dorothea. She’s actually looking into her eyes now. When they were at the monastery, Bernadetta spent more time looking at the ground than anything else. Despite the shock, traveling around the Alliance has done wonders for Bernadetta.

“Petra and I get tea every month. She’ll be coming with the diplomatic group from the Empire.” She informs them softly, speaking of the Brigid Princess. Her grandfather still lived, ruling Brigid so Petra remained in the capital, a guest but also collateral for her country. She asked if Petra wanted to travel back to Garreg Mach for the Millenium Festival but Petra said that she was expected to travel with the Imperial entourage.

“I used to see Ferdinand every once in a while,” she admits, speaking of the former heir to the Adrestia throne. Every other month they would try to schedule tea together. But when Duke Aegir fell, Ferdinand disappeared and she hadn’t seen him since.

“He was removed,” Linhardt states calmly, looking at her. Dorothea nods. It was quite the scandal, almost two years ago, Duke Aegir, Count Varley, and Count Vestra were removed from their positions of power. Hubert slid in as the next Count Vestra but Duke Aegir and his family were eliminated and it was rumored that Ferdinand was with them. 

He always seemed so harried when she saw him in the capital, usually after one of her performances. He never told her what happened to him after Hubert took him from the Holy Tomb and Dorothea didn’t want to ask. She hadn’t seen him since.

She never saw Hubert, always in the palace, doing whatever Hubert did. She wasn’t sure if she could handle seeing Hubert, knowing what he was guilty of. 

Count Varley was replaced by his wife in the inner circle. Bernadetta looks to the ground, most likely remembering the death of her father. Dorothea wanted to console her but Count Varley was a slimy, slimy man and she didn’t want to risk speaking ill of the dead. It would be best if she kept her mouth shut.

No one knew what happened to the Emperor, he hadn’t been seen at public functions for two years.

She clears her throat. “Mercedes is in the Kingdom now, she’s engaged to Dimitri.” She won’t ever speak of her involvement in that but she was proud of what she did. She helped her friend escape an engagement that she didn’t want. 

Caspar nods but says little. Mercedes went back to the Empire but found herself fleeing from it during the night. Perhaps she never should have gone back like the others.

“Have you seen the others?” Dorothea asks curiously. If they were running around the Alliance like they said they were, perhaps they saw members of the Golden Deer House there as well.

“A little.” Caspar replies, putting his hands behind his head. “We see Lysithea every once in a while, same with Lorenz and Hilda but that’s about it. Run into them when we’re protecting the merchants who sell to them.” If they were running a business, it probably made sense that they couldn’t socialize much. They had to be on the lookout for new clients constantly.

“Sounds like a dangerous job,” Dorothea teases, lightly. She and Manuela trained in magic at least once a month so their skills remained sharp. In fact, they had started to work at the orphanages and the hospitals, caring for the sick. It made her feel useful at least, rather than an ornament to society. 

Manuela opted to stay in Enbarr. She and Professor Hanneman had tea every once in a while. They had arguments at least twice a year but it seemed to be better now that they were no longer teaching together.

“It’s exhausting,” Linhardt complains briskly. He looks around. “What do you think the odds are of my old napping places still being useful?” Linhardt yawns loudly, his eyes blinking blearily. Seems like Linhardt was the only one who hadn’t really changed in the three years.

Caspar frowns, “Probably not a good idea buddy,” he pats Linhardt on the back roughly. “Anyways, I’m surprised they chose to do the peace talks at the same time as the Millenium Festival.” The villagers around Garreg Mach returned and rebuilt their homes even after the Church of Seiros abandoned the monastery and Lady Rhea disappeared. 

They advertised far and wide that they were still intending to celebrate the Millenium Festival as a landmark not just important to the Church of Seiros but to Fodlan itself. 

Without Lady Rhea, there wasn’t an Officers’ Academy anymore, no one would dare send their heirs and children to participate in a known potential battleground. And besides, the Church of Seiros was funded by donations- donations that the majority came from the Empire.

“It’s a festival,” Dorothea says with a frown. “I think the intention is to promote peace after all and what’s easier than with a party?” She was still nervous about a possible attack. The last time they were here made it clear that the Empire had no qualms about attacking the monastery, regardless of who was in it.

Linhardt shakes his head. “This isn’t going to go well,” Linhardt says grimly. “They all made their promises but everyone will be going with their weapons close. It’s not a good environment for peace talks.” Linhardt would have more evidence behind it but Dorothea was relying on her gut. She made it this far with it. 

“It’s a first step,” Bernadetta says softly. “Hopefully there will be peace in Fodlan soon.” Their merchant protection business made a killing when they traveled between borders. People should be nervous.

* * *

(22nd Day of Ethereal Moon, 1185)

“Annette!” Ashe calls out, spotting the red haired girl from across the courtyard. He knew that hair color from anywhere. He stumbles past some merchants who were busy getting ready for the Millenium Festival, only two days away.

Annette’s face turns and brightens when she sees him. “Ashe!” She cries, hugging him tightly. They haven’t seen each other since they left Garreg Mach; he hasn’t seen anyone really, other than Dimitri from a distance. 

When the borders tightened, Lord Lonato’s castle and his territory of Gaspard was seized and used as the first line of defense against the Empire. His siblings were displaced but thankfully, the King gave them money in return for taking their home. It still stung a bit but he was able to support his siblings as they grew older. 

He now spends most of his time training soldiers how to shoot arrows and others to read, like Lonato had done for him. Not where he thought he would end up but he didn’t think anyone would. It paid for a small home for his siblings near Arianrhod and that was the most he could ask for, really. 

“How have you been?” He asks Annette when they sit down on a broken bench catching up. The villagers have been hard at work rebuilding the monastery but most of their focus has been on the ruined buildings.

“I’ve been good,” Annette grins brightly. “A lot of good quality time with my mom and uncle,” she explains, brushing back a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I’ve been doing some research on magical theory, nothing groundbreaking but something to chew on.” Annette is wearing a light cream white dress with sleeves that match her hair. 

“That’s good,” Ashe responds. He takes a look at Annette. When they were at the monastery, he was only half a head taller than her and the shortest male amongst the Blue Lions but now he can almost see the top of her head. “Have you seen anyone yet?” He asks quietly. He and Ingrid exchanged letters every so often but those slowly died down as time passed. It would be strange for Ingrid to write to a man so often who was not her husband, anyways. 

“I saw Dorothea and some of the Black Eagles,” she mentions, fisting a hand in her skirts. “No one else yet. Mercie said that Dimitri and the others should be here in a couple of days.” She says quietly, speaking of the rest of their house. As far as he knew, they stayed close as always. 

Ashe had tried to stay in touch but the bonds of friendship that bound them together at the monastery could not survive in Faerghus. One could not just write to the future King without being someone of power, which Ashe wasn’t. 

Ashe nods, hopefully he can reunite with some of them when they come back to the monastery. He doesn't care about their standing in Faerghus, he misses his friends. He misses the quiet days spent in the kitchen and the greenhouse. 

“You and Mercedes stayed in touch,” he muses dryly, speaking of the older woman from the Black Eagles House. They were attached at the hip outside of class studies. 

Annette nods furiously, “Yeah, when she had to-,” she cuts herself off. “Yeah, Mercedes and I stayed in touch all the way to her arrival in Faerghus. We don’t write to each other as much as I would like to but we’re both so busy. My uncle wants me to inherit House Dominic soon and she’s preparing to be Queen.” 

“How did she end up in Faerghus?” Ashe asks curiously, he knew that she hailed from the Empire but it wouldn’t have surprised him that she didn’t stay there. Ingrid had told him some unflattering stories about her adopted father there. Rumors flourished in Arianhrod about Dimitri’s new fiance and he was shocked to hear that it was Mercedes who was chosen. It made sense though, Dimitri would become King soon, once the war was over.

“It’s a long story,” Annette confesses, “And not mine to tell.” She digs the toe of her boot in the dirt, scuffing it a little.

Ashe’s shoulders slump slightly. Because he was at Arianhrod, there was an understandable distance between him and those who were at Fhirdiad. He tries to hide it but Annette can see it by the look on her face. “Do you want to go see the greenhouse?” She asks softly. “I heard that the old caretaker is still there.”

* * *

(23rd Day of Ethereal Moon, 1185)

“Lysithea?” Leonie asks, spotting the purple veil and white hair of her former classmate. 

“Leonie!” Lysithea cries out before tackling her. Leonie takes a step back from the impact of her hug. Leonie pats the back of the younger girl awkwardly. She didn’t think that Lysithea would be here, she thought she would have been too busy changing the world. 

“Sorry,” Lysithea coughs awkwardly when she releases her. “I haven’t really seen anyone since-” she cuts herself off, looking down at the ground. Leonie understands, when Garreg Mach Monastery fell, she ignored Lorenz’s offers and headed straight back to her village. She had been working odd jobs here and there to save money. 

She had to budget her expenses just so she could afford missing a couple of days’ work to come here but thankfully some merchants were looking for some protection on the roads so she was able to offer her services with them. She even made some good money doing it. But she hadn’t seen anyone since they all fled Garreg Mach.

“You grew out your hair,” Lysithea notices, the side ponytail dangling over her ear. “It looks nice,” she compliments softly. 

Leonie shrugs, throwing it over her shoulder. “I got tired of the monthly haircuts,” she explained. “Much more efficient if I let it grow out.” If there was one thing Hilda taught her was maintaining her hair was unneeded. Now she only had to cut her hair twice a year. 

Lysithea still looked very much the same, she was taller yes but she was also wearing heeled boots. Her same pink eyes and white hair that shone so fierce in the middle of battle. “How have you been?” She asks curiously. She knew Lysithea was a noble but the way Lysithea had explained it to her was that her family was a minor family. Her family had to work to keep their position. “Have you seen anyone?”

Lysithea shakes her head. “Not since I got here,” she answers promptly. “I’ve seen a couple of the others over the years but we haven’t really had the chance to catch up.” Leonie nods, understanding. Noble was a noble and they still rubbed elbows with each other. She must have seen Claude, Marianne, Hilda, and Lorenz at least a couple of times when the Alliance roundtable convened together. 

“I can’t believe it’s been five years,” Leonie muses, looking over the bustle of preparation for the festival. Despite the threat of war, and this Leonie kept her ears up for, her life had not changed much. Her small hunting village still had the same work as always. For them, it did not matter who ruled over them. 

“Five long years,” Lysithea mutters under her breath. Leonie looks at her curiously. It was probably different for noble families. Leonie couldn’t claim that she had a great understanding of it, despite Lorenz’s efforts, but they probably fretted every single day over whether the Empire would invade their lands or not. But they never did. 

There were concerns of conscription being enforced in the Alliance but once it became clear that the Empire had no plans to attack them at this point, things slowly went back to normal. As normal as they could be.

For Leonie, her attendance at the Officer’s Academy was the best and worst year of her life. She reunited with Captain Jeralt, got to train against the Professor, and learned a lot about Fodlan in general. But she lost him, lost the professor, and lost contact with her friends. 

“Will the others be here?” Leonie asks curiously. She hadn’t seen Raphael or Ignatz, which made sense, the Alliance was a big place and they were merchants. They would never travel to a small hunting village that had very little to offer in goods and was able to self-sustain itself. 

“I think so,” Lysithea nods. “Claude made an unofficial announcement,” she rolls her eyes. “Hinting at it.” She crosses her arms. Leonie has to smile at that, even five years later, Lysithea hated Claude ordering her around.

“Do you write to them often?” Leonie asks. Lorenz drilled into her head the members of the Alliance roundtable and while Lysithea had yet to inherit her house, she hoped, she probably had to write to them often.

“Just business,” Lysithea responds, shoving her hands into the pockets of her dress. “We don’t really talk about ourselves, just what our house is doing or planning on doing.” She replies quickly. This is what she appreciated about Lysithea despite her physical weaknesses. She was to the point and blunt. She didn’t play any games. She didn’t try to be a political noble. 

“I wonder who else will show up,” Leonie muses. The promise was made to all three houses at the ball but who knew who would actually keep it?

Lysithea shrugs. “It’s been five years,” she repeats. “It would be a surprise if we all made it and remembered to be here.”

* * *

(23rd Day of Ethereal Moon, 1185)

“Who do you think we’ll see there?” Sylvain asks as they prepare to stay the night at the inn. They’re a day ride away from the monastery and should be there one day before the Millenium Festival begins. All meticulously planned by Dedue who plans to spend the night in front of Dimitri’s room, guarding it as always. 

“Who?” Felix’s head pops through the door as he wipes his face dry with a towel. Felix keeps his hair long but still tied in a messy bun. They’re sharing a room at the inn, just like old times. Ingrid has her own room as it wouldn’t be appropriate for a married woman to share a room with two men who weren’t her husband. She’ll be sneaking over later tonight.

“At the monastery,” Sylvain reports, running his hand over his shaggy hair. He only comes to Fhirdiad every couple of months as his father teaches him how to defend the border against Sreng. 

His father is concerned about an attack from the Empire occurring at the same time from Sreng. South Sreng is completely annexed into Faerghus but northern Sreng still remains. It took a lot of wheedling with his father to let him come to the peace talks with Dimitri; he offered to leave the Lance of Ruin with his family but his father insisted that as a representative of House Gautier, he should bring the lance.

All three of them brought their house relic. It was a show of power for the Kingdom, to demonstrate the one thing that the Empire didn’t have. 

Felix scowls darkly. “This isn’t a social visit,” he retorts, going back into the bathroom. “This is a chance for the boar to create peace for the Kingdom.” The Aegis Shield leans against the bed. Felix isn’t pleased while wielding it, preferring to fight with two handed swords but Duke Rodrigue insisted.

The door opens, “I really wish you didn’t call him that,” Ingrid sighs. “We’re not at home Felix, people are listening.” Ingrid cut her hair short and braids it neatly so it doesn’t get in the way of fighting. Ingrid inherited House Galatea and as a result, Glenn moved there to be with her. They seem happy as far as he can tell. 

Glenn couldn’t come because in case this was an ambush planned by the Empire, he would be a liability. Or so argued the war council. By now, Glenn was probably a better fighter than all of them. He used a sword to fight now instead of an axe.

Muttering can be heard from the bathroom as Felix cleans himself up. Felix’s hair still remains the same length as he dresses for warmer weather at Garreg Mach. It may be winter and the monastery may be in the mountains but it does not compare to the weather in Fhirdiad at this point.

“We’re really going back.” Ingrid says as she falls flat onto the bedding provided to them. When Garreg Mach Monastery fell, the five of them traveled fast back to Fhirdiad. Their families had converged to the palace, waiting for news on their children. Their armies were rallied and they were ready for a full on war with the Empire that never came. 

The Imperial troops that marched on Garreg Mach Monastery never appeared again. The three countries entered a tenuous peace that would hopefully be resolved or start to be resolved by the peace talks. They had all left in a hurry, taking only the essentials with them as they fled back to Fhirdiad. It was a good thing that Faerghus taught them to be minimalistic.

As far as they knew, with the disappearance of Rhea, the Church of Seiros disbanded. It came as a surprise to everyone that the Millenium Festival was being hosted. Certainly, Sylvain had yet to see anyone from the three houses that weren’t amongst the Blue Lions, except for Mercedes of course, who arrived in the middle of night at Fhirdiad. He never even saw Ashe when he was stationed at Arianhrod.

“We are,” Sylvain grunts, flopping onto the other bed. “I wonder who else will be able to make it,” he muses. They had all made a promise that night of the winter ball five years ago and it did linger in his mind. But it wouldn’t be realistic if everyone could make it. Especially those who had already left this world. 

Ingrid shrugs. “It’d be nice if everyone could make it but I don’t like the chances.” The Millenium Festival would be an event celebrated by all three countries, it was a momentous occasion, not just for the Church of Seiros but everyone else. 

Sylvain didn’t keep up with all the politics that were going on in Faerghus but he had heard enough from Glenn when he was ranting over the current state of affairs. Something big happened in the Empire but no one knew all the details. Only that three of the seven houses of the Insurrection had their leaders removed. One of them was replaced by Hubert, of course. The less said about that man the better. No one voiced it but everyone blamed him for what happened at Garreg Mach.

But then Sylvain mused, he was just the one who lifted the curtain over their eyes. Everyone knew something was going on at Garreg Mach that year but no one knew what.

* * *

(24th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1185)

“Look sharp,” Claude commands, straightening his uniform that declared him leader of the Alliance. “The Empire’s group should be here soon.” His grandfather had passed shortly after the Imperial Army had retreated from Garreg Mach Monastery. Hilda did not envy him for the balancing act he had to pull trying to make sure the Empire didn’t attack them and trying to manage the Alliance members. It was like herding cats, herself included.

Hilda examines her nails pointedly. They had arrived at Garreg Mach Monastery the day before and she could be enjoying the festivities but as Claude’s right hand man, she was forced to stick around. She could have been hanging around Marianne right now for goddess’s sake. Marianne!

But she knows that Holst would rather be here than have her here. It was a real struggle convincing to let her out of Goneril territory but she begged and pleaded with him. She wasn’t going to miss the Millenium Festival- after all she had heard the majority of the Golden Deer House would be here and she wouldn’t miss them for the world. 

“Cool it, Claude,” Hilda retorts, flipping one of her pink ponytails behind her shoulder. “If it’s anything like the first day of the Officer’s Academy, they’ll stroll in fashionably late.” It had only been five years since they started at the monastery. It was almost as if it were yesterday when the Black Eagle House arrived. “It’s a power play for them.”

“You think so?” Claude asks curiously, turning around to look at her. They’re holed up in a tiny tower so they can see the comings and goings of everyone in the monastery. They already ran into some of their old classmates from the three houses and some of them have definitely grown up. 

Hilda scoffs and narrows her eyes. She’s spent five years talking to Claude, she knows when he’s trying to play her. “Yes and don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same thing.” Hilda points out. “We’re only here early because you wanted to talk to Dimitri.” 

The majority of the Blue Lions House wasn’t here either. The Kingdom had the same political issues as the Alliance. There were nobles who threatened to leave the Kingdom, just like there were nobles in the Alliance who threatened as well. The Empire was a constant threat, looming on the horizon. They proved themselves that they could move a large army through their lands without detection. Like they did five years ago with the attack on Garreg Mach.

The Alliance was, of course, in a more precarious position than the Kingdom. The Kingdom nobles were loyal to a fault and it was rumored that the only houses that threatened to leave for the Empire were the ones along the border. The ones who would be first in harm’s way if the Empire chose to invade. 

For the Alliance, it could be anyone at any time, which is why Claude had his hands so full. Still viewed as an outsider, he was lucky that he had House Daphnel, House Edmund, and House Goneril supporting him. 

Bless Lorenz’s heart but his father was a heartless ass who would abandon the Alliance if it didn’t mean all the merchants wouldn’t turn against him. House Ordelia leaned towards the Empire even though Lysithea expressed sympathy towards Claude. But poor Lysithea, her family’s support was barely a factor in the scale that decided the Alliance’s fate.

Claude shrugs, “I need to know where he stands.” Most of the correspondence to the Kingdom has been directed to Ingrid’s husband, Glenn, who is also Felix’s older brother. Hilda’s seen the letters; he actually has something of a sense of humor, something that the majority of the Blue Lions house was lacking. Glenn speaks of sympathy towards the Alliance but Claude needs more than that. He needs Dimitri’s word.

Hilda sighs, this isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation and nor will it be the last if this war doesn’t end soon. But honestly speaking, this war hasn’t been as bad as it could be. The carnage she saw at Garreg Mach Monastery was horrifying but it hasn’t been repeated in the last five years.

Whatever happened at Garreg Mach, the Empire seemed content for things to be hostile between the three countries but not outright war. There have been a few small skirmishes alongside the border but it turned out the majority of those conflicts were initiated because one side thought the other gave them a funny look, or something stupid like that.

“Loosen up Claude,” Hilda instructs, leaning back in her chair, putting her black heeled boots over the side bar.“If this is the Empire we’re expecting, they shouldn’t be here for until tomorrow. I doubt they’d come early just to participate in the Millennium Festival.”

* * *

(25th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1185)

“Duke Riegan,” Dimitri greets with a gloved handshake. “It is good to see you.” It’s best to keep things formal at this point; he doesn’t know how much Claude has changed since they left Garreg Mach Monastery. There may be a chance that he has matured since. He looks the Alliance leader up and down approvingly. 

He has not changed much in the five years since they last met. Perhaps his personality will have changed more.

“Seriously? It’s Claude, Dimitri. Duke Riegan was my grandfather,” Claude grins, smirking. Behind him, Hilda smacks her forehead. She runs a maroon gloved hand over her face disappointedly as she glares at Claude behind his back.

“Claude, then.” Dimitri corrects. “I hope that we leave this meeting with a mutual understanding of each other.” He should be taken aback but it seems that Claude has changed little from their school year days.

“The Kingdom doesn’t attack the Alliance and the Alliance doesn’t attack the Kingdom?” Claude questions. “Sounds good to me.” Another smack to Hilda’s forehead. His grin turns sharp and clever. “We know who the real enemy is, don’t you?” 

Dimitri sighs. Glenn has relayed his numerous letters that he has shared with Claude and even in the two years they have corresponded, Glenn has yet to get a straight answer out of the man. Just like he was at the Officer’s Academy.

“You should sit,” Claude offers. “My intelligence tells me that the Empire’s emissary won’t be here for a couple of hours.” He states, sitting down himself. Hilda stays standing behind Claude’s chair. Perhaps she has done the maturing of the two that Claude so sorely lacks. 

“Your intelligence?” Hilda scoffs, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. “I told you that yesterday about the Empire’s M.O. and my scouts are the one who spotted them.” Perhaps not. “Hey Dedue, it’s good to see you,” she winks. 

Dedue nods, “It is good to see you as well Hilda.” Dimitri spares a glance for his stern faced vassal. They did have seminars together often. It would make sense for them to be familiar with each other. Dimitri sits down across from Claude as Dedue takes his place behind his chair. 

“Do we know who is coming?” Dimitri clears his throat, looking at Claude. For whatever reason any spies they have attempted to place in the Empire are discovered and disappeared. If they are being executed, then the Empire has made no threats towards the Kingdom in their discovery. 

“Petra should be coming,” Hilda announces, fiddling with her hair. When all three of them stare at her, “What?” She pouts. “Dorothea and I got tea earlier today when you were still sleeping,” she says pointedly towards Claude, who awkwardly rubs the back of his head. “And she told me that Petra would be coming. Other than that, I got nothing.” She shrugs. “The Empire has been hush-hush about who it might be. No idea who you two might actually be meeting with.” She leans against the wall, smiling at them.

There’s something about the two of them that makes Dimitri drop his guard, only a little bit. But he can’t help but relax with them. As long as he doesn’t eat or drink anything Claude offers him, he knows he is safe. Claude’s never been one for direct attacks anyways.

“Can we rely on the Alliance to help if the Kingdom is attacked?” Dimitri asks quickly. It’s a question that Glenn’s been asking for months now and it’s an answer he’s never gotten.

Claude sighs, running a hand through his hair. “That’s a lot to ask, Dimitri. I would say I would like to offer you our support but that’s going to be a hard sell in the Alliance meetings.” It’s not a direct answer. No matter how much Claude would like to help the Kingdom, if it benefits the Alliance to see them fall, they won’t help. 

It’s a non-answer, like Glenn had expected him to give. But there are other topics they can approach that don’t necessarily mean an alliance but a treaty that can make them stronger against the Empire. Also, he would need to discuss it with his father before he pledged the Kingdom’s help if the Alliance were attacked by the Empire. He can’t pledge Kingdom aid if the Alliance doesn’t offer it either and Claude knows this.

“Can we talk about trading then?” Dimitri asks, putting his arms on the table. This is a safer topic, one that even might get straight answers from Claude. Glenn mentioned it was the best way to get Claude talking. If the Kingdom can get Alliance merchants to rely on them for trade, perhaps that will be the way to secure Alliance aid.

Claude smiles, “Now we’re talking.” As Lord Rodrigue informed him, the Alliance’s economy relied heavily on the merchant business. The movement of goods within the Alliance and outside of the Alliance. If he can strengthen the trade ties between the Kingdom and the Alliance, then if the Kingdom is attacked and the merchants don’t want to lose their business, they may put pressure on the members of the Alliance who would potentially side with the Empire, such as House Gloucester for example amongst others. 

The Kingdom specializes in weaponry, furs, and more recently minerals that were found in the north. According to Glenn, these minerals were a rarity and were desired all around Fodlan, which was good. Until recently, Faerghus had to import their food from Adrestia. They still were importing goods for some of the more rare items but their reliance was severely cut down as a result of the teachings that came from Duscur.

The Alliance specializes in fabrics, spices, and wyverns. They were the main originator of them as wyverns liked to live high in the mountains when they were nesting. Their merchants were part of the life blood of Fodlan; it was said where the Alliance thoughts could not travel, their merchants could reach.

They negotiate over the specifics of trading. Claude wants lowered taxes for crossing into Faerghus to do trades and Dimitri wants more readily available access to wyverns. They specialize in pegasus and horses in the Kingdom but for those who want aerial access are often limited to women, on account that pegasi don’t like men. They need wyverns to get men into the air. They’re

It’s a first step for them both but with these talks, hopefully Claude will understand the need for Alliance support if they both want to survive.

* * *

(25th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1185)

Mercedes is catching up with the girls from her song group while Dimitri and Dedue meet with Claude and Hilda. At least, the ones who were at the Millenium Festival, which is Annette and Dorothea. She and Annette cried over each other for at least ten minutes- they hadn’t seen each other since she left the Barony of Dominic to go to Fhirdiad. They wrote to each other as much as they could but letters weren’t the same. Dorothea promised that Petra would be here as well but that she would be coming with the diplomatic group from Adrestia. 

A tinge of fear enters her when she thinks of the Empire. Would they force her to go back? She had heard that her adopted father was arrested on some crimes two years ago but she had fled to Faerghus. She would be allowed to go back. And besides, she may have lived at her former home since she was ten but her memories of that small church in Faerghus was where she was happiest. Dimitri wouldn’t let them take her, he promised her that. 

It’s good to see Dorothea, who sits chatting away with Annette as if the past five years hadn’t gone by. She envies that about Dorothea, her ability to make conversation about anything really. She knew Dorothea had lived a difficult life, one much more difficult than hers but her radiance survived in such darkness.

“And then he tried to kiss me,” Dorothea laughs, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “This man who I’ve only spoken to for five minutes tried to kiss me,” she shudders, recalling a short encounter with one of her admirers on the streets of Enbarr. Annette listens entranced with her stories. 

“What’d you do?” Annette asks quickly, wanting the story to continue. Her big teal eyes stare at Dorothea fascinated. 

“I leaned in and touched his shoulders,” doing the same to Annette with a smirk. “He closed his eyes and I shocked him with a quick spell.” Dorothea answers, smiling deviously. “Nothing to hurt him of course but just enough to knock him off his feet. The fool thought it was sparks flying between us apparently and went around telling everyone I had given him a kiss of a lifetime.” Dorothea shakes her head. “And that was that.”

Annette giggles at the story. “He didn’t try to come back and kiss you?” She questions after she finishes laughing.

“He did,” Dorothea replies, “But I made sure that the guards knew to never let him near the opera house and he got the picture soon enough.” She winks at Mercedes who shakes her head. Sounded like Dorothea, at least once a month a class was interrupted by a suitor begging for her attention. Hubert had his hands full tossing them out.

Such a rich life Dorothea led, she was glad to see her though. It seemed like she was flourishing being back at the Mittlefrank Opera house.

Dorothea wiggles her fingers at someone with a wave and Annette and Mercedes turn to see who it is. It’s Ingrid, Sylvain, and Felix. Annette stiffens slightly, only relaxing when Mercedes glances at her.

“Ladies,” Syvlain bows before joining them at their table. They all scoot over, making room for all three of them. Dorothea and Sylvain exchange cheek kisses as Ingrid rolls her eyes. “Good to see everyone,” he grins.

Felix grunts in greeting towards Annette and Dorothea before sitting next to Annette who stiffens even firmer. Ingrid rolls her eyes as she takes the seat next to Sylvain.

“Hi Ingrid,” Dorothea coos, “How have you been? Love the new hair cut.” Ingrid flushes pink under the onslaught of Dorothea’s compliments, fingering her shorter locks. Ingrid had her hair long for her wedding to Glenn and then immediately cut it short after that. It was a good look for her and inspired Mercedes to cut her hair short as well. “Felix,” she smiles brightly. 

“Are they still meeting?” Mercedes asks softly before Felix can cut it in with a rude retort. Her timing has gotten better about it at the very least. 

Felix nods brusquely. “It’s been about two hours and there hasn’t been any trouble.” Mercedes nods. No one was certain when the contingent from the Empire would arrive but Claude and Dimitri took the time to hash things out between the Kingdom and the Alliance, steps that would hopefully lead towards peace.

“I saw Ashe earlier,” Annette pipes in, smiling brightly. “He looks good.” The small archer from the Blue Lions had lost his home, much to Dimitri’s disappointment, but Dimitri had made efforts to make sure that he and his family were paid for the seizing of Castle Gaspard. The former villagers under Lord Lonato had to be moved up north as construction began to fortify the borders between the Empire and the Kingdom.

“Apparently Bernadetta, Caspar, and Linhardt never went home,” Dorothea adds, tilting her head. “It seems that they’ve been running around the Alliance for the past five years.” This causes all of them to stare at her, surprised. Caspar, Mercedes would have expected no less from him but shy Bernadetta and sleepy Linhardt? That was truly shocking.

“We saw Lorenz and Marianne when they met at the meeting room,” Ingrid offers. “We weren’t able to talk much because they both left pretty quickly when Dimitri and the others went in.” Mercedes had been there too, Lorenz didn’t even look at them when Claude went in and Marianne faded as well. She was looking better than she had at the monastery. 

Sylvain checks off a list with his quill. “What’s that?” Annette asks curiously, when Sylvain scrolls it back up. 

“Just a list of our classmates, I just want to see who made it here and who didn’t.” He ticks off his fingers, “Lysithea is here too. I saw Raphael in the dining hall with Ignatz. Who else are we missing?” He looks around quickly for input from the others.

“Leonie is here as well,” Felix says gruffly. “I saw her down at the cemetery with some flowers from the greenhouse.” There would be no doubt in who she was visiting most likely. 

“Petra will be coming with the Empire,” Dorothea supplies. When the others look at her, “Not her choice but she had to for Brigid,” she defends hotly. “And then, Ferdie,” she says softly, speaking of the former leader of the Black Eagles. Word had traveled quickly from the Empire about the removal of the Prime Minister but that was the last word heard from the Empire. 

There was still pain in her heart when she thought of Ferdinand, their earnest but sometimes insensitive house leader. She would never forget the look on his face when Hubert whisked him away five years ago. Her adopted father told her that he had returned back to Enbarr but Mercedes never saw him again. 

“If I see Hubert, I get first crack at him.” Felix utters softly, calm on his face. Annette edges away from him gently as he clenches his fist. 

“Do you really think Hubert will be here?” Sylvain responds, looking at Felix. “He has to know he’s looking for trouble if he is.” Sylvain has the same look of dark calm on his face. “I get the second crack then.” Ingrid sighs but says nothing.

Horns sound in the distance. “That’ll be the Empire,” Dorothea states, standing up. Mercedes doesn’t really believe that Felix and Sylvain will hit Hubert if he’s there but judging by their clenched fists, it’s best if they all go to see who came from the Empire. The others stand too, running towards the entrance to see who the Empire brought. 

There’s a crowd of people already there, waiting for a glimpse of the expected Adrestian party. She can spot the bright blue cape of Dimitri as he stands at the top of the stairs with Claude and the others by her side. She sees many of the others, standing on walls or in front of the crowd as the carriage circles in. 

The carriage stops and so does her heart. She grasps at Annette’s small hand tightly as they wait for the carriage door to open. Annette holds it encouragingly, smiling at Mercedes softly as they keep their eyes fixed. 

The carriage door opens and the tall dark figure of Hubert von Vestra emerges. Felix snarls and almost pushes his way through the crowd of people with Sylvain holding him back. 

But Dimitri acts first, throwing a lance at Hubert who barely gets out of the way with a slim white glove from the carriage emerging to yank him aside. The lance pierces the carriage wall as Dimitri snarls, hatred on his face.

Mercedes covers her mouth with a hand as she stares at the small white haired figure rising out of the carriage. For those who recognize her, they can see her. And they do in fact know her.

The herald calls out, edging around the lance embedded in the carriage. He looks at Dimitri and Claude. “You stand in the presence of the Emperor of Adrestia, First of Her Name, Edelgard von Hresvelg.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a good portion of you weren't fooled by El's "death" last chapter, which is unsurprising given that I'm not really a sad story teller. She lives and is Emperor of Adrestia! 
> 
> Sorry about the surprise smut last chapter! I haven't written any more smut into the story but if and when I do, I will make sure that there is a note at the beginning of the chapter to make sure you guys are aware. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and concrete are always welcome.


	20. Part III Chapter II

* * *

(25th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1185)

Edelgard looks over the crowd with cold eyes, raising her chin defiantly at Dimitri who stands at the top of the stairs, staring at her speechless. “I see these talks of peace were false,” she announces, pulling out the lance that pierced her carriage with a jerk of her arm. She lets it clatter on the floor before taking a step forward towards the stairs. Her light purple eyes meet Dimitri’s. “So be it,” she murmurs. With a nod to Hubert, she turns and re-enters the carriage where she came from, ignoring the pierced hole. 

Hubert levels a stare at Dimitri and Claude before sweeping his cape behind him, entering the carriage with Edelgard. With a loud shout to the caravan, the carriage takes off and Edelgard with them. 

Sylvain releases Felix’s sleeve shakily.  _ She was alive. _ Little El was alive and the emperor of Adrestia. Felix pushes his way forward towards Dimitri, racing up the stairs. They were close, only a few steps behind. He shoves Dimitri into a wall, shouting. “Did you know?!” Spittle flies everywhere as Felix shouts at his friend.

Dimitri blinks, his blue eyes focusing on Felix and the others behind him. “No,” he says hoarsely. “How could I have known?” He responds, rattled. Dedue pulls Felix off Dimitri with a rough grab by his collar.

“Do not treat his highness like that,” he informs Felix stiffly. He plants himself in front of Dimitri and the others as Dimitri slides to the floor. Mercedes races to his side, a quick Heal spell in her hands. He waves her off. 

“Felix,” Sylvain takes him to the side. “He didn’t know. You saw him.” In the five years since the fall of Garreg Mach, no one spoke of El von Arundel. It was as if she never existed.

When Dimitri learned that El was dead, he went ballistic, finally proving the boar moniker Felix used for him. He destroyed the Black Eagles classroom and Hubert’s room in a rampage. He was crying the entire time. No one could stop him. It only ended when he fell asleep.

“El was from Adrestia?” Dorothea asks quietly, her hands by her side. “I knew her adopted mother was Adrestian, but I always thought she had been born in Faerghus.” She shakes, “Why hasn’t she told anyone she was alive?” She looks up, tears shining in her eyes. To think she had been in the same city as El for the past five years. There was no sign or note from her. It was as if they weren’t even friends. 

Ingrid shakes her head. “No, she was from Faerghus,” she insists shakily. “In all the ways that mattered, she was a Blue Lion.” She toys with the ring from Glenn on her finger, twisting it in her hands. Glenn had to stay behind in Fhirdiad when he had desperately wanted to come. She wishes he came now.

“How is she the emperor?” Ashe asks them. Sylvain glances at him, not noticing when the archer arrived. “Doesn’t she need the Crest of Seiros to become the Emperor?” He looks around at his former classmates, looking for answers.

“Ferdinand didn’t have it,” Mercedes says by Dimitri’s side. “But that was a rare exception.” She raises her hand again to heal him, only for Dimitri to wave her off. 

Dimitri closes his eyes and then re-opens them. “She has the Crest of Seiros and her real name is Edelgard von Hresvelg.” He states quietly, resting his hands in his lap. He keeps his eyes closed, absorbing the information. It was a shock to all of them to see her alive. 

Sylvain grabs Felix’s arm before he can pin Dimitri down again. It’s a half-hearted grab, but it’s enough to hold him off for now. They all stare at Dimitri in complete silence. Felix opens his mouth.

“Our fathers know, yes.” Dimitri answers before Felix can ask, unblinking and exhausted. Felix takes a step back, his jaw clenching. “She was brought to the Kingdom when we were nine. The Insurrection had happened only a week before,” he explains quietly. Sylvain remembers the aftermath of the Insurrection well.

King Lambert was evacuated to a secret villa. Only those closest to the King knew the location. There was fear that the Insurrection would start a chain reaction in Faerghus. That there would be an Insurrection in the Kingdom. Of course, King Lambert’s reforms would cause a different kind of uprising amongst the Faerghus nobility. 

When he came back, El was there with the royal family as if she had always been there.

“When did you find out?” Dedue asks, turning to face Dimitri. “When did you learn who she was?” The Duscur giant’s hands are shaking too just like Sylvain’s. He knew that she hadn’t been raised in Faerghus. She was too pale and she didn’t like cold weather or their food. But he wouldn’t have guessed she was the heir to the Emperor. 

“At the Tragedy of Kleiman,” Dimitri tells them. Ingrid flinches, still playing with her ring. “Glenn was hurt,” he looks at Felix and Ingrid. “They were going to kill him there. She saved him, she activated her crest, and she saved him.” Dimitri closes his eyes again. 

Sylvain’s knees buckle and he squats down, resting his hands on his knees. Good goddess. It explained so much about her and them.  _ Edelgard von Hresvelg _ . She never seemed envious of them or their crest, never wanted one of her own because she already had one.

“Well, this is all fascinating,” Claude remarks, standing a distance from the group with Hilda. They’ve been watching the whole time. “But I think it’s time we returned back to Derdriu,” he looks at Hilda who nods in agreement. He turns on his heel and walks away, quickly.

Sylvain scrambles after him. He grabs Claude’s shoulder, pulling him back. “Look, I don’t know what you talked to Dimitri about up there but those agreements, they still stand, right?” He looks Claude right in the eye, holding onto his shoulder. Dimitri’s not in the right state of mind to defend himself and to know what he talked to Claude about. But Sylvain knows whatever they talked about up there was important. 

Hilda clamps her hand onto his wrist, squeezing it until Sylvain releases Claude’s shoulder. It’s always the small ones, Sylvain notes wryly, stronger than they look. “Look Sylvain,” she says sweetly but under her breath as the others look after Dimitri. 

“You and I are friends but Dimitri may have ruined the only chance at peace we had in five years. Plus, given what we have just saw and heard about his uncle? We’ll have to think about it.” She drops his wrist, leaving slight red marks from where she was holding it. 

“Dimitri,” Claude calls out and the group looks at him, his and Dimitri’s eyes meeting. “We’ll keep in touch, alright?” He looks at Sylvain. “That’s all I can promise,” he says under his breath. Claude and Hilda leave them in the entrance hall, still shaken by what they just witnessed. 

* * *

(25th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1185)

“Claude,” Lysithea calls out when he exits the entrance hall with Hilda. There’s a grim look on her face. “We’ve got trouble.” She was with Raphael and Ignatz when she saw Edelgard emerging from that carriage. Embarrassingly, she almost collapsed as her knees gave out at the sight of the red-clad Emperor. Ignatz had to hold her up. 

“What now,” Hilda grumbles, annoyed. There’s already been enough trouble today to last a lifetime. The Alliance Lords were already lukewarm towards Faerghus but word of their prince attacking the carriage that housed the Emperor without cause would turn the tide against him. Not that his classmates didn’t understand his rage, but the older generation who didn’t know him wouldn’t understand his lack of control over his emotions. 

“There are reports of a small army approaching,” she says grimly. “The scouts say that they were an hour or two behind- El- her procession.” She feels strange, she knew the girl at school, attended many seminars with her and her dedication and drive impressed her. It hurt to hear that she died but her grief did not swallow her as it did for the Blue Lions class. She froze at the silver white of her hair but they wouldn’t- couldn’t do that to their own emperor.

Claude runs a hand through his hair. He looks over the Millenium Festival. It was still going on but subdued after the events. Rumors were probably swirling about Dimitri and the Kingdom. “How big is this army?” He asks quietly, a thousand scenarios running through his head. 

“Not big, maybe four hundred men.” Lysithea informs him. “But if they get into the monastery and they don’t care who they’re going after,” she looks him in the eye. “A lot of people will get hurt.”

Claude bites his glove, screaming into it. Hilda and Lysithea look at him expectantly. “Please tell me you brought Freikugel,” he asks Hilda, meeting her eyes. Lysithea watches Claude closely, something is going on his mind and she isn’t sure if she likes it.

“Yeah, Holst literally shoved it at me when I told him I was going,” Hilda tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Why?” She asks him, expectantly. “We’re not-” She tilts her jaw questioningly.

“We are,” Claude confirms. Each of the Alliance lords brought a small battalion with them, not for expected use but for show of power. “It’d be bad if we just left Alliance merchants here to rot, right?” He smiles, winking at Lysithea. “How far away are they?” He asks, quickly. 

“An hour away?” Lysithea answers as he runs back up the stairs. “Where are you going?” She shouts after him. 

“I have to go get Failnaught!” Claude shouts back. “Tell as many of the Golden Deer and the others, regardless of who they are.” He heads over to the camp where he kept his things. He brought Failnaught with him in hopes of not having to use it. But you can’t always get what you want.

“He’s probably going to tell Dimitri,” Hilda rolls her eyes. “Come on, let’s go find the others,” she says to Lysithea. “Some reunion turned out to be.” She mutters to herself. Her long pigtails trail after her as she rushes towards her camp. She doesn’t carry Freikugel with her everywhere, even though Holst would prefer her to. 

Lysithea follows her. Her parents will not like this but it’s not like they don’t control her. Their house will die with her, one way or another. She has the right to make her own path.

“I have to go get Freikugel,” Hilda informs her, tapping her foot in thought. “Pretty much all the Blue Lions will be up there,” she waves a hand at the entrance hall where Claude ran. “That leaves the rest of the Golden Deer and the Black Eagles.”

“Do you think they’ll fight against their home country?” Lysithea furrows her brow. That was a lot of ask of someone and even though half the Black Eagles were missing, it didn’t mean that the other half of them would side against their home.

Hilda snorts, “Half of them went rogue the moment the monastery fell and the other one who didn’t is Dorothea. They’ll fight on our side.” She says grimly. Lysithea stares at her. “I got tea with her yesterday in the morning,” she explains quickly. “Turns out some of them defected to the Alliance,” she says with a smile. They rush towards the dorms, there is no time to walk leisurely through the monastery anymore. 

“Caspar, Bernadetta, and Linhardt?” Lysithea asks quickly, following after as Hilda takes long strides to the dormitory. Hilda nods. “That explains a lot,” she said out loud. She thought she saw them occasionally with the merchants that visited the county of Ordelia. She thought she was losing her mind. 

“Now the trouble will be with the more stubborn members of our house,” Hilda grimaces as they reach the second floor of the dorms. She pulls out the key to her room, unlocking it. Freikugel lays next to her bed in perfect condition. 

Lysithea nods. Her family may have leaned towards the Empire, but she certainly didn’t. She couldn’t after the pain they inflicted on them. But Lorenz’s father made it very clear that if the Empire ever came knocking on his door, he would let them in. He was amongst the most troublesome nobles in the Alliance. Those who still rejected Claude as their leader, even after all this time.

“He wouldn’t betray us to the Empire,” Lysithea voices her thoughts out loud. “That wouldn’t be like Lorenz.” She’s spent a lot of the past five years with Lorenz and the others. They both act as their family’s representatives at the Round Table. Lorenz means well, but his loyalty to his father may doom them all.

“Nope,” Hilda answers, slamming her door and locking it afterwards. She wields Freikugel in one hand as they head outside of the dormitories. “Thankfully for his thick skull, he doesn’t think that wouldn’t be very noble. If he’s going to betray us, he’ll be upfront about it.” She quickly hugs Lysithea, wrapping her arms around her and breathing her hair in. “It’s really good to see you Lysithea. I’ll see you around, okay?” She races off in the direction of the stables, leaving Lysithea behind.

* * *

(25th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1185)

Caspar had to sit down a bit when he saw El, or Edelgard, he guessed. He liked Edelgard when they were at school. She was always cool during the Axe seminars and never complained when he got loud. She kept up with the others pretty easily even though she was so small. He was worried that maybe his dad would have come to the Millenium Festival, but this turned out to be worse in a different way.

“Did you ever meet the Hresvelg children?” Caspar asks Bernadetta and Linhardt quietly. He knew that between the eleven children Emperor Ionius had, none survived. 

They shake their heads. Bernie’s been quiet this entire time- Raphael’s been trying to coax her to eat something, but they’ve been sitting on the stairs for a while. “There was Frederick von Hresvelg,” Linhardt murmurs, “He was a year or two younger than us, but I never met him.”

Caspar nods; he was only seven when the Insurrection happened, and he never went to court before that. They didn’t trust him to not run around or break something. As they grew older, Caspar was supposed to be his companion in court. But the political situation in Enbarr was too tense for Caspar to go, and then he died when Caspar was ten. He never met any of the Hresvelg children.

Bernie had her knees under her chin, lost in thought. “She seems so different,” she remarks, keeping her eyes to the ground. The stern but light-hearted girl who danced her heart out at the winter ball five years ago was a far cry from the cold stone faced woman they saw. “I- what happened to her?”

Linhardt shakes his head. “Something happened to her.” He says out loud, “I am curious, how was she able to keep her crest a secret from us so long? One would think Professor Hanneman would have been able to spot it from a mile away,” he ponders. The Crest of Seiros was a rare crest, only manifesting itself within the Hresvelg line and occasionally, in other people like Captain Jeralt. Crest mythology marked those who had the Crest of Seiros for greatness.

“You think she has the Crest of Seiros?” Caspar asks Linhardt quickly, looking at him. 

Linhardt looks down. “Well, not all of Ionius’s children had the Crest of Seiros,” he admits looking at Caspar. “But the genealogy records of the Hresvelg line indicate that Edelgard was one of the three children who did. Of course, those records say that she died in the Insurrection so they might not be the most accurate.” It had been years since he last saw the genealogy records in Professor Hanneman’s office, but he knew them like the back of his hand. After Garreg Mach fell, Professor Hanneman returned to the Empire for his research. They haven’t seen him since.

“But they probably are,” Bernadetta replies. “They wouldn’t have taken her if they weren’t sure who she was, right?” She comments, fiddling with her thumbs. In her family, she has the Crest of Indech. Honestly, it was a surprise that Bernadetta and Linhardt were allowed to run from the Empire all these years. Their crests were valued. 

“You think they kidnapped her,” Linhardt looks Bernadetta in the eye, contemplating. “Interesting theory.” El had disappeared in the aftermath of the battle for Garreg Mach. They had never recovered her body. Was it possible that the Empire kidnapped her unsuspectingly? Or was it likely that she saw this as an opportunity to return to the Empire? 

She disappeared during the Insurrection. Lord Arundel played a role in the Seven. Why would he have taken his royal niece to Faerghus of all places?

Caspar tilts his head, thinking about it. He might not be a philosophical thinker like Linhardt, but he’s learned to use his head more. “I mean, they had too, right? There’s no way she goes willingly with them.” Honestly speaking, from what he knew of Edelgard, there was no real way to determine.

Ignatz hurries down the stairs from the dining hall, spotting them. “Hey! We’ve got a problem.” He dashes past them. Caspar rises from the stairs, running over. Bernadetta is quick to follow. Linhardt lags behind, waiting for Ignatz to answer.

“What’s up?” Caspar asks quickly. They’ve spent the last twenty minutes digesting what happened, but if there’s a problem and Caspar can use his muscles to figure it out? That’d make him feel a lot more useful.

“There’s a small army on the move,” Ignatz explains quickly, “Heading towards Garreg Mach. They’re from the Empire.” Caspar stills and Linhardt tilts his head in thought. 

“They’ve moved quickly,” he surmises. “I assume all this urgency means that we plan to fight?” Ignatz nods and Linhardt sighs. “Always trouble at Garreg Mach,” he grumbles. He rolls up his sleeves. As a Bishop, he doesn’t have many weapons to carry around.

“How much time do we have?” Bernadetta asks quickly as they head for the merchant camp where they keep their weapons. Thankfully, they’ve kept in fighting shape since they left the monastery. They’ll be ready for this at the very least.

“An hour, maybe less.” Ignatz responds as they’re running. “It seems like a small force, one that was undetected by the Alliance scouts until they came close.” 

They’ve reached the encampment where their group of merchants stayed. It’s been one of their better paid jobs as the merchants were worried about an attack like this. The money was good and would be good for the merchants for supplying the Millenium Festival. Plus, they were looking for merchants that actually wanted to go to the Millenium Festival.

Caspar shakes his head. “I assume we’re fighting outside the monastery walls?” There were too many unarmed villagers and merchants already inside the walls and there wasn’t enough time to evacuate them this time. It’s not as Claude or Dimitri brought huge armies with them but Dimitri has part of Faerghus’s Royal Guard with him, which will help. “How big is the army?”

“400 men,” Raphael responds, tossing Caspar’s axe over his way. Caspar slides on his lightweight armor as Bernie darts past him to grab her bow and quiver. “So not big but big enough to do damage if unchecked.”

Caspar ties on his greaves and braces with a grimace. The last major battle they participated in was essentially a stalemate after the dust settled. The Empire had retreated, but they lost key players that day, including Rhea and the professor. 

“Who’s leading us?” Caspar asks once he slaps on his helmet. He slings his axe around his waist, ready to go. 

“Claude...and Dimitri,” Ignatz replies softly. His quiver is slung around his waist as he tucks his bow under his armpit.

Caspar wrinkles his nose; He had nothing against Dimitri but he destroyed their classroom after the battle ended and then Hubert’s room. Caspar was just happy that he wasn’t in his room when the prince rained down destruction. Because Caspar saw that room, it was a mess and not in a good way.

“Whatever,” Caspar shakes his head. “A fight is a fight,” he grinned. In a way, he was excited. He would be able to test his axe against trained fighters, not just bandits looking for an easy target. This would be the first time in years.

* * *

(25th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1185)

It wasn’t as if Dorothea was surprised that Dimitri threw the lance at the carriage. She had watched him carefully throughout the school year and while he did seem like the perfect prince, there was a darkness in him that El wasn’t able to see. He was dangerous to her and to others around him. If Hubert didn’t expect a confrontation when he arrived, he was naive. 

Seeing her alive, yes that was a surprise. It was a surprise to everyone. She looked healthy, pale as ever but she was able to rip the lance out of her carriage with ease. Her long brown hair turned white and twisted into buns around her crown. It was a striking look, one she pulled off with ease. Edelgard really did look like a character from one of her operas. Dorothea knew red was El’s color. 

She stays cramped in a bush next to Marianne as the small army approaches them. This was a plan devised by Claude, to hide in the woods near the path that led to Garreg Mach Monastery. There was no question that she was going to fight to defend the monastery. 

This was a war between nobles and all those innocent people hiding up in Garreg Mach didn’t deserve to get hurt just because the Empire wanted to kill the Kingdom and Alliance leaders. It certainly didn’t make any sense that they would go after the villagers who lived close to Garreg Mach and the merchants who just wanted to make a sale. Those people were simply cogs in a wheel that kept Fodlan running. 

She doesn’t like the idea of attacking soldiers from her home country but it was war. She’ll have to think long and hard about whether she’ll return to the Mittlefrank Opera House. She’s planning on it but things change. 

“Dorothea,” Marianne murmurs quietly, keeping her eyes on the main road. “They’re coming.” Dorothea can hear the stomping of boots and hooves as they approach Garreg Mach. They’re near the back, close to the walls. The plan is to wait for them to get close so they can enclose them from the back with Sylvain, Felix, and Ingrid there. A strong back line for sure, a plan devised by Claude to minimize casualties. They wait for the signal, a flare from Claude to sign for the attack.

The metal gate rattles as the leader of their army tries to open it. He grunts and spits on the floor with a growl. “We call for the surrender of the pretenders Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd and Claude von Riegan on the behalf of Lord Regent Volkhard von Arundel. They are interlopers in the Adrestian Empire.” He calls out. “Surrender now and we will not attack.”

Marianne makes fists in the dirt, keeping her eyes low. There was a change in Marianne, she was no longer the shy depressing wallflower in their school days- she was still quiet and meek but there was a healthy glow about her now where there wasn’t one in the past. 

Red sparks fly into the air from where Claude was stationed with Dimitri and Lysithea. “What?” Their leader turns towards the sparks. It was the signal to attack.

Caspar leaps over a bush and throws one of his hand axes into the chest of one of their infantrymen. Dorothea sighs and calls down a Thunder spell, hitting many of the men at once. It’s just like old times, she muses as she kills one soldier after another. 

She went to Garreg Mach Monastery to make a future for herself, but turned into a trained killer instead. She draws out the rapier by her side and leaps into the fray. She’s gotten comfortable forming runes with one hand, and the rapier helps if any of the enemies get too close. 

It’s dirty work and when they’re done, there is blood splattered on her face as the men they’ve killed lie dead in the dirt. She takes one look at their corpses and promptly throws up.

* * *

(25th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1185)

Marianne pats Dorothea on the back comfortingly while holding her soft brown locks from her face. Poor Dorothea, it must have been hard betraying her country like that. 

Dorothea wipes her face after she finishes throwing up and flashes Marianne a gentle smile. “Thanks,” she murmurs quietly, straightening up. Marianne nods. It’s been a while since she fought as well but her adopted father, Margrave Edmund has placed an emphasis on her training ever since she returned home. It’s all in preparation for a war that has just begun.

Dorothea walks away but is immediately pounced on by Caspar who begins fussing over her. Marianne watches them for a moment, but then sets off to look for Claude. Margrave Edmund emphasized neutrality in the face of those who were pro-Empire and those who were anti-Empire but he let her make her own choices. She chooses to be on the side of Claude.

She catches Hilda fussing over a head wound that Claude sustained. He brightens when he spots her, waving away Hilda’s agile hands. “My savior,” he grins brightly. Hilda sighs as well at him but brightens when she approaches with a Heal spell in her hands. She moves her hand over Claude’s wound, using her other to manipulate the Faith rune as she works. 

“What now?” She asks them quietly. Hilda and Claude glance at each other. Marianne looks at them expectantly, she doesn’t move her hands but she’s practiced at this enough to know where they need to go.

“I need to call a meeting,” Claude answers, groaning. Marianne suppresses a small smile; Claude hates calling meetings of the Alliance nobles. He’s gotten around using just the Five Great Lords but with the reappearance of El- Edelgard, things have changed. “Dimitri may have struck first but this army,” he gestures towards the defeated men, “shows that their attack was premeditated. Regardless of how talks went, El-Edelgard never intended peace.”

Marianne sighs, nodding. Margrave Edmund won’t be impressed with Dimitri, the way he acted without thinking. But the Empire tried to trick them into letting their guard down. It will launch a series of arguments in the Alliance, which Claude has tried to avoid over the past five years, and it will cause houses to join a side. However, House Edmund will remain with House Riegan.

“House Edmund will be with you, Claude.” She says quietly, pulling her hands away. A slight bruise and a small cut is all that remains of Claude’s head wound. She pulls out a letter from her skirts. “Margrave Edmund told me to give this to you. I’ll support you, if that’s okay.” She hands the small note to Claude. 

In short discussions with Margrave Edmund, he’s informed her that Claude’s refusal to pick a side infuriates him. He’s not one to prevaricate on his decisions. Claude may deny it but he’s been anti-Empire since day one and now he can finally show his true colors. 

Margrave Edmund gave her small note, only to reveal to Claude his support when Claude had finally made his decision. The Alliance cannot ignore this act of war from the Empire. Claude certainly can’t.

Claude touches her hand briefly, and she looks up at him. “It’s more than okay,” Claude smiles. “Glad to have you by our side.” He sneaks a glance at Hilda, who beams at her. 

“We need to get to Derdriu,” Hilda gathers up her axes, sliding her hand axe into her belt and hefting Freikugel into her hands. “Once we get the bodies cleaned up, of course.” Marianne nods, looking over the carnage that lay before them. She has a feeling that this isn’t the last time she’ll see Garreg Mach Monastery.

* * *

(29th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1185)

Ignatz rubs his temples as he leaves the meeting room where the Alliance lords are. He knows that he is incredibly lucky to be in a place where power sits, but those Alliance lords are beginning to get on his nerves. Everyone has an opinion, but no one has a solution.

Their merchant protection band accompanied their clients to their home and left for Deidriu immediately. Claude invited them to come to Deidriu. All of five of them made a decision that they wanted to help the Alliance against the Empire any way they could, and they had been there for about two days, just waiting for action.

They don’t have a voice in those meetings, just sitting and listening to their discussions. But on the third hour of constant arguments and raised voices, Ignatz is beginning to get a bit of a headache. Linhardt left in the first fifteen minutes, mumbling about going to take a nap, and Caspar followed quickly behind. Raphael had to restrain Caspar to stop him from punching that lord with a silly mustache, Weathervane or something. That’s what Claude called him when he was mocking him.

Bernadetta and Raphael are still in there, high in the galley. Bernie’s been taking notes on what’s going on while Raphael snacks on some dried nuts they have.

Leonie was at Derdriu too, and she was at the meeting for all of five minutes, never having been one for politics. Ignatz’s father kept him educated in the basic politics of the Alliance, to prepare him for his future as a knight. 

He wasn’t pleased about Ignatz’s decision to create a merchant protection group but Ignatz was his own man and had paid his father back the money he had spent on his education at the Officer’s Academy. And besides, after two years of being in business, the Victor name was well known amongst merchant circles and nobles that they sought his family for deals and things like that.

But hidden underneath all these arguments is Count Gloucester, Lorenz’s father. He’s struggled with the culpability of Count Gloucester’s effect in his life. There have always been rumors about his influence in merchant circles, about how merchants traveling from the Gloucester region to Derdriu are doomed to death. 

Lorenz always espoused such noble ideals but his father….seemed to be less than a noble man.

A firm hand slaps him on his back, jolting him out of his thoughts and his glasses. He barely catches them as they slide off his face. He turns, thinking that it’s Caspar but instead, it’s a strange man, covered in scars.

“Penny for your thoughts?” The man grins as he sits down next to Ignatz. “Getting too loud in there for you?” He gestures towards the meeting room where, somehow, the voices are getting louder. “It seems to me like it’s a waste of time.”

“I’m sorry?” Ignatz asks, staring at this strange man. His dark brown hair and thick beard are unfamiliar to him. 

“Seems to me that the kiddo would have a much easier time if he just steamrolled over them,” the strange man snorts, chuckling to himself. Ignatz catches himself staring at the strange man. His skin is tanned and his arms unreasonably large. He wears Alliance clothing, but he’s not from the Alliance. He has a twinge of an accent when he speaks that Ignatz can’t place, and he’s usually pretty good at placing accents. 

The strange man catches his staring. “Do I have food in my beard or something?” He combs his thick beard with his fingers, trying to scrape any food out of it. “I thought the kid would have let me know about it before I finished lunch. But then again, that wouldn’t be his style.” Ignatz isn’t sure who the kid is, but he’s starting to get an inkling of who it might be.

Ignatz shakes his head quickly. “Ah-no.” He reaches out his hand to shake the strange man’s. “I’m Ignatz, it’s nice to meet you.” His manners take over at this point and he’s left introducing himself to this strange man who sat down next to him first.

The strange man takes his hand, shaking it roughly- his palms are dry and heavily calloused. This is a man who has fought in many battles. “I know, the kid made sure to point his friends out to me. Said you were important.”

Ignatz blinks. Now he’s not sure who the ‘kid’ this strange man is referring to but Ignatz is not important, not to anything that really matters.

“I’m, uh, Nardel.” He introduces himself. “I work with the kid-uh, Cl-Claude.” His voice catches on the C part of Claude’s name. Stranger and stranger. “You don’t like those meetings either?” He nods towards the meeting room. The voices have gotten a little quieter now, which is good, Ignatz guesses. He hasn’t seen Claude in five years before the Millenium Festival. But it wouldn’t strike him as odd to work with such a man like Nardel.

“Not really,” Ignatz shakes his head. “I’m not one for uh, discussions like that.” In their group of five people, the only loud ones are Caspar and Raphael, and they don’t really argue like that. They just talk loud. But they’re willing to tone it down for Bernadetta, who still gets nervous when voices are raised, and Linhardt, who’s usually napping. They just like to discuss which merchants they should protect next as the list of requests tend to be pretty long.

They’ve built a reputation for themselves for being willing to protect the smaller merchant families at a lowered price. Linhardt had argued against that, but Caspar convinced him eventually that it would be a good marketing strategy. And it was. They were known far and wide for their excellent service regardless of the price. 

Nardel snorts and laughs, tossing his head back. “Me neither,” Nardel agrees. “Where I come from, the leader’s word is law and if you don’t like it, you can fight him,” he jokes. At least Ignatz thinks he’s joking. Or at least hopes he’s joking.

The door slams open and Claude storms through, rubbing his brow. When he catches Nardel and Ignatz sitting together, he stops at the site. “Making friends Nardel?” He asks wryly, approaching them. “We’ve stopped for a quick recess,” 

Claude explains quickly. Ignatz can spot Marianne and Hilda walking behind Claude and he waves quickly at them. They wave back but keep walking. Claude says, “I think they’re getting tea or something.”

Nardel slams a heavy hand onto Ignatz’s back, jolting him again. “Yup,” Nardel grins. “This one is as uh, nice, as you said he was.” Nardel smiles, showing a tooth missing in his mouth. “Any luck there, kiddo?” He asks, nodding at the meeting room.

Claude rubs his brow with his fingers. “Going as well as I thought it would- which is not at all.” Claude complains, slumping down on the bench with Ignatz and Nardel. “I don’t get how they don’t understand that we need to make a stand,” he gripes. “A third of them want to see what the Kingdom does, a third of them wants to see what the Empire does, and then the other third wants to see what I do.”

Ignatz can’t help but stare, unable to offer advice. Whenever there’s a discussion in their group that needs to be had, usually about a potential client- it goes rather simply. After all, they can trust that each other wants the best for the group. Caspar likes the challenging routes, Bernadetta likes the safest routes, Raphael likes the routes that make them the most money, and Linhardt likes the routes that let him nap and research the most. It usually falls on Ignatz to make the final decision.

“Well, who’s opposing you?” Ignatz clears his throat as he fiddles his thumbs, not looking at Claude. 

“The usual suspects,” Claude groans. “That is Gloucester and Weathervane who are the loudest, as usual. The others are willing to support them but not speak up about it. ” Count Gloucester was amongst the wealthiest and strongest in the Alliance, controlling the Myrddin Bridge that went over the Airmid River. Weathervane was a less familiar lord, but if he remembered properly, Weathervane controlled land close to the Myrddin Bridge as well. 

“And what about Dimitri?” Ignatz pitches his voice low. The subject of Dimitri was controversial in the Alliance since the day of the Millenium Festival. Ignatz was there when Claude promised to stay in touch with Dimitri but no promises were made. 

But even Ignatz had to admit, when he saw Dimitri attack the carriage, he was frightened as well. His strength was terrifying. He had heard the stories from Fhirdiad about Dimitri and his uncle.

“He wants to join forces,” Claude answers, keeping his voice low too. If anyone overheard, they could accuse Claude of working against the Alliance for his own means and call into question his ability to lead the Alliance. “But I need everyone to agree with it.”

Lines were being drawn into the sand and Claude found himself straddling that line. The older generation were determined to keep their autonomy and if that meant siding with the Empire, so be it. The younger generation wanted to strike first at the Empire, to protect their homes from the powers that threatened it. 

“We’ll find a way Claude,” Ignatz says encouragingly. “I know it may not mean much but we’re here for you.” He smiles weakly at his old friend. Claude takes Ignatz’s hand into his, squeezing it gratefully. 

* * *

(30th of Ethereal Moon, 1185)

“She’s alive?” King Lambert asks, slumping down on his chair. His gloved hand covers his face in shock as he absorbs this new information.

Sylvain nods. Dimitri broke the news in a letter to his father and Lord Rodrigue but Dimitri also wasn’t doing well so Sylvain volunteered himself to inform the king and Lord Rodrigue of these new developments. Everyone else was still struggling with the truth about Edelgard.

Lord Rodrigue sits down as well, also in shock. He hasn’t said much since Sylvain met with them. For El, there was no public mourning service- she was merely a commoner and the prince’s fiance and she did not matter as a whole to Faerghus. She was not an individual, just a statistic lost in the war against the Empire. 

It was a hard thing to wrap his head around, little El, now the Emperor of Adrestia. She always seemed fit to rule but it was supposed to be by Dimitri’s side. She supported all of them in her own different ways. 

“The Empire has declared war on the Alliance and the Kingdom as well,” Sylvain informs them. It was made quite clear by the attack of their small army. There haven’t been any reports of attacks on the border as far as Sylvain is aware.

King Lambert runs a hand through his hair. “Not unexpected,” he says quietly. “That was always a concern for us.” He looks at Sylvain. “Did she say anything, at all?”

“Just that these talks of peace were false,” Sylvain repeats. Not that it meant much when her army attacked- it seemed that not one of the three countries took the peace talk very seriously. Glenn was still trying to get a straight answer out of Claude who promised to stay in touch with Dimitri. 

“Does she look healthy?” Lord Rodrigue asks quietly. “Does she look well?” The man drums his hand on his knees, his long hair lined with grey. They’ve all aged these past five years, some more than others.

Sylvain sighs. They only saw her for a moment before she went back into her carriage. “Her hair color changed,” he mentions. “It’s not brown anymore, it’s more of a silver white,” he describes. “Still short though. She seems healthy, she pulled Dimitri’s lance out of her carriage pretty easily which didn’t look easy.” Sylvain’s been on the receiving end of Dimitri’s training. It hurts. 

King Lambert winces at the description. Sylvain understands why Dimitri lashed out at such an uncontrolled manner. No one liked Hubert, especially considering his place in El’s death. To see him by her side was jarring. But Dimitri committed an act of war. The actions of the nation’s prince would not be taken lightly, by anyone. Especially given what he did to his own uncle.

Lord Rodrigue nods, stewing over the new information. “No one ever mentioned that she was alive, not even that, that one of the Emperor’s children was alive.” Lord Rodrigue had few contacts in the Empire that were still willing to speak to him, mostly through the diplomatic channels. No insider information from the court, which was why this took everyone by surprise. “If El- Edelgard,” he corrects himself, “is now the Emperor that means Emperor Ionius must have passed away at some point.”

Sylvain furrows his brow in thought. He had not heard of the Emperor passing. There would have been owls everywhere if that happened. 

“There should have been a royal announcement,” Lord Rodrigue explains. There had been one four years ago when the previous Duke Reigan had passed and Claude took his place with little fanfare. They were expected to be at war and could not risk celebration. “And I will look through my papers again but I don’t recall ever seeing anything like that. I would have noticed,” he says quietly. He puts his head into his hands. 

“We’ll need to fortify the border,” King Lambert mentions, going over his papers. “If the Empire attacks, we need to be ready for it.” He says to Lord Rodrigue in an undertone. Sylvain sighs. This is where he needs to leave and find Ingrid and Felix. He needs to talk to them. 

They rode back in silence- Annette had to return to the barony of Dominic while Ashe went back to Arianrhod to be with his family. They both promised to be at Fhirdiad as soon as they could.

He bows and turns, ready to leave the elder statesmen to their work. Is this the role his father should have played if he wasn’t the Tower of the North?

“Sylvain,” King Lambert calls out once Sylvain reaches the ornate door. “Thank you for everything.” There’s more on his face than he has said. Thankfully, with a lifetime of trying to interpret Felix, Dedue, and Dimitri’s facial expression, he’s become a bit of an expert. Sylvain turns and bows low. 

“Not a problem, your majesty. For the good of Faerghus.”

* * *

(30th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1185)

Ingrid stabs a lance into a training dummy. “You should have been there, Glenn,” as she removes her lance with a rough jerk. “It was as if she didn’t even see us.” Like everyone else, Ingrid was shocked to see El alive. At the Officer’s Academy, they weren’t as close as they used to be. They trained with each other at least once a week, but they had such different interests. 

They were both juggling different expectations that they didn’t make time for each other. Ingrid regretted that. She’s been married to Glenn for three years now, and her father still leads as Count Galatea. Her parents are in good health, but her father has been talking of abdicating his position so Ingrid can over. 

Felix was furious, but Lord Rodrigue announced that Felix, not Glenn, would inherit the role as the next Duke of Fraldarius. Glenn, as always, was understanding. He was a statesman, he was diplomatic, and he was understanding. Even though Glenn didn’t inherit his position and he was going to live with Ingrid’s family instead of Ingrid moving to Fraldarius territory, Lord Rodrigue still paid Ingrid’s extensive dowry. It was worth it, he said, after all the headaches that Glenn and Felix gave her.

Which was why Ingrid went to him first. 

“Come on,” Glenn takes the lance out of her hands. Ingrid stills at his touch as he pats her head and hugs her. “We don’t know what happened to her,” he explains gently. “We don’t know what she’s been through to make her like that.” Glenn was still reeling from the fact that his father kept the secret of El’s identity from him even after she passed. They told each other everything, given the nature of their work. Secrets could not thrive in the diplomatic field. 

“I miss her,” Ingrid sobs, like a child. “I miss her and I can’t even talk to her.” She cries into his chest as her grief overwhelms her. When she had learned of El’s death during the fall of Garreg Mach, she did not mourn her. She had fallen in battle, which was an honorable death. Ingrid and Felix didn’t talk to each other for a month afterwards, knowing how each other felt on the matter.

But she was alive, and all the pain and hurt she kept suppressed underneath rose up again and threatened to consume her. Seeing El, so cold and unfeeling brought a fresh wave of grief for her. 

“I know, I know.” Glenn pats her on the back with his metal hand that he keeps gloved constantly. “I miss her too.”

When her tears subside, she picks the lance back, looking at it. Her father gifted her Luin when she was at the academy, but she hasn’t used it since the fall of Garreg Mach. She hasn’t had to. Any expected skirmishes in the five years never materialized. 

Glenn watches her as she moves through familiar combat arts. No one’s announced it yet, but war is coming. Dimitri may stand accused of throwing the first blow, but it was the Empire who sent the army with the intentions of arresting him. Ingrid wonders if El had any doing in that.

He’s been busy writing to Claude, who hasn’t changed much since the monastery. She remembers when she used to try to lecture him on the cleanliness of his room and that fell on deaf ears. Claude did what he wanted, and she warned Glenn that when he started his diplomatic efforts with the Alliance. After six months of uncommitted answers, Glenn admitted that she was right. 

Dedue slipped Glenn the scrawled notes Dimitri took in the meeting with Claude. It seemed that before everything went sideways, their meeting was amicable and productive. Ingrid hopes that it will lead to a brighter future for both of their countries.

When she finishes her training session, Glenn is still there, reading over a book on the Hresvelg treatises. “It’s one of the great diplomatic treatises of the century,” Glenn explained to her. Somehow, someway, one of the Emperors was able to negotiate a trading agreement with Morfis, a country outside of Fodlan that was notoriously secluded. Faerghus offers nothing like Morfis does, but it would help trying to understand what Enbarr wants and desires. It sounds like El, able to find peace between a rock and a hard place- often her, and Felix when they butted heads.

Ingrid is drenched with sweat when she finishes, she can feel her shirt sticking to her as she packs up the training dummies. Glenn stands up, tucking his book underneath his arm. “Ready?” He asks quietly. They have their own private quarters in Fhirdiad that they can use, and it’s nice. 

Ingrid nods. Glenn does do work in Fhirdiad, but because the county of Galatea is so close to the Alliance-Kingdom border, it’s sometimes easier sending owls from there. Glenn smiles, brushing away a stray lock. “We’ll figure this out, okay?” Glenn says softly. They walk away hand in hand, Ingrid will have to bathe before they dine, but Glenn holds her clammy palm anyway.

* * *

(31st Day of Ethereal Moon, 1185)

Glenn storms into the dining hall where they’re breaking their morning fast. “He wrote back!” Glenn crows with a bright grin, Ingrid trails after him equally excited. Dedue and Mercedes cooked some Onion Gratin Soup this morning and they walk out of the kitchen to hear the news. “Claude wrote back,” he slaps the letter onto the wooden table with a smile. Dimitri looks at him with interest, rising from the table.

Glenn hands him the letter explaining, “He wants to talk in person,” he explains brightly as Dimitri skims through the letter, reading through Claude’s familiar handwriting. Dedue watches them silently, wiping his hands clean with a dish towel from the kitchen. He’s taken the liberty of preparing all the Royal Family’s meals in Fhirdiad. He still hasn’t found a dish that Dimitri likes, but not for a lack of trying. 

“Aileil?” Dimitri asks sharply, looking at Glenn. “Why there?” If Dedue recalls correctly, Aileil is part of the Alliance, near the County of Galatea and Dukedom of Daphnel. It’s also known as the Valley of Torment, a manifestation of the goddess’s rage. 

“He’s worried about Count Gloucester finding out.” Ingrid explains, stepping up to stand next to her husband. “He doesn’t quite have the full support of the Alliance yet.” She waits for Dimitri’s response. Dedue does not like the idea of leaving Fhirdiad for a place called the Valley of Torment especially for someone like Claude, but if that is what Dimitri wants, that is what he will do. Anything for Dimitri.

“When would we meet?” Dimitri inquires, glancing over the series of letters that Glenn procures for him.

“The end of Guardian Moon,” Glenn informs him. Dimitri looks up at him, surprised. “He wants more time to convince the other lords. He has the tentative support of some of the heirs, but he wants to convince the actual lords that this is the right move to do. The only move to do.”

Dimitri nods, handing the letters back to him. “I’ll start my own correspondence with him,” he states calmly. “This is something that I should handle myself from now on. Thank you Glenn,” he looks him in the eye. “For all of your hard work.”

Glenn bows, pleased with himself. “For his highness.” Ingrid smiles, gratefully. Two years of hard work of corresponding with Claude was finally successful. 

Dimitri clears his throat. “We’ll keep this between everyone in this room,” he commands. Sylvain looks up in mid-bite, staring at Dimitri. “We will go to Aileil but we aren’t announcing what’s going on.” He looks at Glenn. “I’ll inform my father and Lord Rodrigue of the turn of events, but I have no intention of announcing this to the war council.”

Glenn remains silent but nods. Dedue blinks, glancing at Mercedes who clutches a handkerchief in her hand. If the information is limited to those in this room, it means that there will not be many who know that Dimitri will leave for Aileil at month’s end. Is there someone Dimitri does not trust?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No real confrontation between Edelgard and the others unfortunately! Come on, Dimitri almost killed her, there's no way she gets into a room with them. A lot of you asked about Ferdinand, Rhea, and Edelgard's memories- I can't say because that'd be spoilers. All will be revealed as Part 3 continues. Let me know what you think in the comments! And remember, this is a slow burn.


	21. Part III Chapter III

* * *

(3rd Day of Guardian Moon, 1186)

It’s been a couple of days since Leonie arrived at the capital. She had to make a pit stop at her old hunting village before she left for Derdriu. Lorenz came with her, he wanted to see where she came from. She could tell that he was underwhelmed by the simplicity of her home. Leonie couldn’t help it, she didn’t have any money and it’s not like she was there very often. 

Immediately upon her arrival, Lorenz invited her to stay in the Gloucester quarters within the castle. She almost refused on principle, but then she saw her budget and the prices of the inns in the capital. She said yes and Lorenz seemed determined to pamper her. 

It was a bit much. She definitely did not need new clothes, a new bow, perfume, tea, or whatever Lorenz was trying to pile on her. What she wanted was to spend time with her friends. But in the week since the others have returned to the capital, all they’ve done is argue. That is the Alliance nobles who were doing the decision making. It was loud, and it was noisy, but Lorenz seemed to be in his element, defending his cause. 

Leonie did not dislike Dimitri, but she understood Lorenz’s reservations about the Faerghus prince. He was unpredictable. He broke lances at least once a week during training without much effort. To be expected to place your family in the hands of a man who could not control would be difficult, especially for a control freak like Lorenz. 

She’s stayed and watched the council meetings in full and she has to say, she’s not really impressed. Most of the nobles are more concerned about their image than effecting any real change, and the idea of accepting aid from the Kingdom rankles them. Who cares about their image? If the Empire invaded and removed their heads, their image wouldn’t follow them to their graves.

She says this much to Lorenz over a bit of tea. Lorenz sputters, choking on his tea as Leonie smiles, satisfied. It’s been forever since she sat down and had tea, but this is bad. The garden is pretty, they’ve just come out of winter so only the blue roses are blooming. 

“Do not say that to Weathervane’s face,” Lorenz remarks after clearing his throat, the red in his face going down. “That’ll make him run to the Empire even faster.” Politics are not and were not Leonie’s forte, but the name Weathervane rings a bell for her. “But as if he ever needed much reason to,” he sniffs delicately, taking a sip of his tea. He’s serving the Four Spice blend for her today, not his favorite, but Lorenz has always tried to cater to his guests’ preferences. 

“So what have you been up to?” Leonie asks curiously. He’s been serving as his father’s representative in the Alliance council but has yet to inherit the Gloucester title. She supposes it means that he’s spent more time at Deirdriu than at his own home.

Lorenz tosses his hair over his shoulder. “I’ve been busy,” he smiles brightly, leaning forward. “Trying to keep up with Claude is a job in of itself.” He does have a point- Claude was manipulative even at the monastery. She shuddered to think what he would do as Duke Riegan. “He does have our best interests at heart though,” Lorenz admits quietly. “He always has.” He runs his elegant fingers over the rim of his teacup, deep in thought. Lorenz brought out his fanciest tea set, it’s trimmed with gold. Leonie has tried to avoid touching it as much as possible. “How have you been?” Lorenz sets down his cup of tea, looking into her eyes. 

“Been busy,” Leonie answers promptly. “A lot of mercenary jobs out there. I’m close to paying off my debt to my village.” She grins brightly; it’s a point of pride for her. She saved every penny she could and while her village said that it wasn’t necessary to pay them back, she should invest in her community, in her family. It’ll be worth it. “I’m just trying to make a living for myself.”

Lorenz nods, eagerly. “Understandable and commendable, of course.” He compliments with a flourish. Leonie can’t help but smile at the theatrics. Lorenz was eccentric, but despite his bone headed comments sometimes, he cared. 

She brightens, digging into the bottom of her pack. “I have these to return to you.” She pulls out five different fancy handkerchiefs from her pack that Lorenz lent her over the school year. She kept returning them during the months, and somehow she found herself with more again. She meant to give them back to him by the end of the school year, but it just never happened.

Lorenz takes one, going over the embroidery. “You kept these…” He says quietly to himself, rubbing his finger and thumb around the cotton.

Leonie nods, “They’re way nicer than anything I’ve ever owned, so there’s no way I could get rid of them.” She explains cheerfully. She certainly felt bad about getting them bloodied, so they stayed in the pack while she used real bandages to cover her wounds. 

Lorenz’s gaze turns wistful as he turns one handkerchief over. “You should keep these,” he murmurs quietly. Leonie freezes and looks at him expectantly. He shoves the handkerchiefs back at her. “Keep them, please.” He repeats, quickly.

“Why?” Leonie asks softly, staring down at the fancy fabric that she never used and kept hidden away in her pack. 

Lorenz grabs her hand. “As a memory of our time together at the monastery,” he explains. “We haven’t seen each other in years and I fear that if we go another five years, you won’t remember me anymore.”

* * *

(6th Day of Guardian Moon, 1186)

Raphael scrapes his fork against the plate loudly as Bernadetta reads while waiting for him to finish. They’ve been in Deidriu for two weeks now and while Raphael would like to get back on the road and start work again, Ignatz promised Claude that they would support him. And they never go back on their word. 

Thankfully, Claude has found them some small work in Deidriu, helping merchants travel to smaller villages in the area or they’d really be in a pickle. Maya and his grandpa have been running an inn for a couple of years now, and they’re doing really well for themselves. They love Bernadetta and even said that if she ever got tired of traveling on the road that she could come work at the inn as a cook. Raphael likes to send money home as much as possible to help keep the inn running, just in case business is slow or if there’s a rainy day. He’s not great at inn work, so this makes him feel better. 

The capital makes great food, not as great as Bernie’s of course, and he’s told her as much but still pretty great food. Caspar and Linhardt are running around the capital or something. Caspar has been checking out the training field and the wyvern nests while Linhardt was exploring the castle’s library. They were keeping busy in their own way. 

Ignatz had promised to help Claude, but Claude never specified what help he actually needed. Raphael figured that he wouldn’t ever really, Claude never talked about his problems. 

Bernadetta’s soft hand touches his and he looks up. “Are you done eating?” She asks quietly, closing her book with the handmade bookmark he made for her. Raphael nods and they stand up to head to the training field. They had to keep their skills sharp in preparation for whatever Claude wanted them to do. Raphael had a feeling it wasn’t protecting small time merchants.

They walk instep together, Raphael slowing his natural gait so Bernadetta could keep up with him. 

“I didn’t think she’d be alive,” Bernadetta murmurs, her thoughts far away. She has a distant look in her eyes, one that’s usually there when she talks about her dad. If there was someone Raphael wanted to kill twice, it would have been Count Varley. But it was reported that he died in a hunting accident two years ago. Raphael would have done worse. “El- or Edelgard I guess.”

Raphael nods, understanding. He didn’t know her that well; they had a lot of Axe seminars together and she could pack a punch when she was so short, but nothing about her really stood out in his mind. Elegant for sure and pretty as well, but she never spoke to him much at all. Hilda was closer to her, and he felt sad for Hilda, but that was it.

“I was supposed to go to court, you know…” Bernadetta says, looking down at the ground. “When I was younger and more  _ presentable _ .” He can hear Count Varley in her words and he holds her hand, squeezing it supportively. He tries not to let the anger ripple through him when she talks about her father. “We were supposed to be friends.”

“Weren’t you friends at the monastery?” Raphael questions. El had let them stay in her room the day Bernadetta’s room got raided, and it didn’t seem like that was the first time it happened either. 

She shakes her head quickly. “I spent too much time in my room so I never really got a chance to get to know her. She was always so patient with me, and I never knew why. I never met her at Enbarr, so I didn’t recognize her.” She looks up at Raphael. “Do you think she knew? That we were supposed to be friends?” 

Raphael stops and looks at her. “I don’t know,” he says quietly. “But those things are in the past Bernie and you shouldn’t let that affect you moving forward.” They had all gotten drunk one night after they had successfully delivered their largest client to date to the Daphnel Region. It was amongst one of their most stressful missions as the road they were taking was treacherous and their client was needy and paranoid. However, they paid well for all that additional anxiety and spread their name across the land. 

But they had gotten to talking about their childhood, and Bernie laid it all out there. It was horrific what Count Varley had done to her. It wasn’t fair that she still bore the weight of his actions. She had gotten so much more confident since their days at the monastery, but she still had some bad days. On those bad days, it made their work a little bit harder, but they managed. They got her to the inn where his grandpa and Maya ran, and then they went off. When they came back, Bernie would be all right again.

She nods, leaning against him. “Thanks Raphael,” she says quietly, closing her eyes. “I’m so glad I came with you guys.” Raphael was glad too especially as he got to know her and the others even better.

* * *

(12th Day of Guardian Moon, 1186)

Dorothea isn’t stupid enough to think that she can get a meeting with El- Edelgard, especially as Emperor. So she does the next best thing, she gets tea with Petra instead. They meet outside of the palace as Dorothea may be the lead singer of the opera, but she’s not important enough to be able to enter the palace. They have to coordinate their date as Petra gets pulled into meetings left and right and Dorothea has rehearsals. There are rumors flying around Enbarr about troops mobilizing, but Dorothea hasn’t had a soldier in months so she can’t confirm.

“Did you know?” These are the first words out of her mouth as Petra sits down as they meet at a popular cafe. Word has officially been released about Edelgard, a lost child of Emperor Ionius who was stolen away to Faerghus. She has inherited her rightful throne and will lead the re-unification of Fodlan, bringing the Empire back to its former glory. 

Celebration is in the air as Edelgard is seen towards a step to the future. Emperor Ionius hadn’t been seen for three years and the reappearance of their leader breathes new life into the city. But no one actually knows where she came from, just that the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus kidnapped her when she was young. But given how Dimitri described El, it didn’t seem like she was a prisoner in Fhirdiad. Then again, he is biased and so was El. 

Petra shakes her head. She’s not in the inner circle of the Empire. Petra’s never allowed outside of the city, any trips she makes are supervised, even her own trips back to Brigid. “I did not know, Dorothea,” she holds Dorothea’s pale hand in her own. “I swear it. She was hidden from me.” Petra’s sincere, she’s never lied to Dorothea and if it was something like this, Petra would never be able to keep it a secret.

Dorothea chews on her lip, turning it white. “How did they keep her a secret? For five years?” She poses. “You and I, we should have heard something at the very least.” Petra lived in the palace and Dorothea reinserted herself back into Enbarr high society quickly. She hadn’t heard anything from Ferdie but he refused to speak about what happened the night he and Hubert fled from the monastery, or that month really.

Who knew when Edelgard inherited the throne? There wasn’t a public ceremony or an announcement. Hubert probably knew, but he always stayed in the palace. Even Petra never saw the man, always hiding in the shadows. 

Petra shrugs, sipping at her Ginger tea. Dorothea’s not fond of Ginger tea but she has a bigger budget than Petra so she ordered it. 

“Have you seen Hubert?” Dorothea asks sharply. “There’s no way he didn’t know.” It was all so messy. From her understanding of Enbarr politics is that the Von Vestras served the emperor- always. Until Hubert’s father Adelram von Vestra broke the standard, betraying Ionius during the Insurrection. 

Dorothea remembers that night; Enbarr burned as soldiers marched through the city straight for the palace. There were only a few casualties that night. The intention of the soldiers was not to kill but subdue or capture. The only major casualty that night was the death of one of Ionius’s daughters, one of his younger children, which was seen as a tragedy but brushed away. That was until more of his children started dying over the course of three years- often disappearing until their bodies resurfaced.

Petra shakes her head again. “I have tried speaking to Duke Gerth, but he does not answer my questions.” Dorothea nods, running a finger around the rim of her teacup. “Do you believe Ferdinand knew anything?” She asks quietly, sipping from her cup.

Dorothea doesn’t answer immediately, closing her eyes. Dumb old Ferdie, he always meant well, but it didn’t mean much in the face of Enbarr politics. “....No, he was always an awful liar.” Did Edelgard step on him on her rise to the top? El wouldn’t have, but this was Edelgard they were talking about. Who knew what she was like? Two minutes of her appearance didn’t say much about her at all. “I doubt he knew very little at all.”

Petra makes a frustrated noise, deep in her throat. “There are many questions, but few answers.” She pulls back her hand from Dorothea’s, her fingers sliding against Dorothea’s palm. “I will see if I can request an audience with Emperor Edelgard,” she comments quietly. “Perhaps I will find the answers I seek there.” 

Dorothea squeezes her hand with a smile. “Be careful Petra, I don’t want to lose you too.”

* * *

(16th Day of Guardian Moon, 1186)

The moment Mercedes wrote to her, Annette was on a horse headed for Fhirdiad. Her uncle didn’t like it but he could deal with it. Annette was going to be with her other family who needed her right now. Her uncle was never able to replicate the close friendship that her father had with the king. He focused primarily on the governance of their barony and raising Annette when her father left them. 

She didn’t begrudge her uncle for that; he cared for her and that was all she could really ask for. He never married himself, so it was just him, her mother, and Annette. But the bonds she built with her classmates were strong, even if they were shaken by the revelation that they were keeping an Adrestrian in their midst. There were many, including her own uncle, who questioned the logic of keeping El in the capital so close to the king.

She was a Hresvelg, and after the emperor lost all of his children, why was she kept in Fhirdiad? Why would the king keep a father and daughter separate? King Lambert answered none of these questions and the answers were left to speculation.

Annette liked the king, she really did. He gave her a small lead when her father disappeared to serve in the Church of Seiros. But her loyalties were more directed at Dimitri and her friends. Mercedes doesn’t write what Dimitri is planning, she never has. But Mercedes wants her in the capital and that’s where she’ll go. 

It’s a three days’ hard ride to Fhirdiad and winter is still going on strong. She’s got her fur-lined coat on and multiple layers underneath her dress, but it’s a hard journey, one that she’s willing to endure. She’s not a trained rider, not like Sylvain or Ashe, but she can ride well enough. Ashe joins her as a guard as he was planning on heading to Fhirdiad as well once his siblings were taken care of near Arianrhod. Her uncle doesn’t like it, but Annette’s stubbornness outweighs her judgment so they go. 

Mercedes is waiting for her in the courtyard once the guard gives them permission to enter the palace. “Mercedes!” Annette squeals, dismounting from her horse. She hugs her tightly, breathing in her lightly perfumed hair. Mercedes has always smelled like flowers and bread, even when they attended School of Sorcery together.

Mercedes swings her off her feet, squeezing her firmly. She buries her face into Annette’s shoulder, keeping her close. Ashe watches bemused as he dismounts from his own steed, exhausted. Dedue clasps him on the shoulder, nodding at him. They lead their horses to the stable for food and rest. 

“How was the journey?” Mercedes asks breathlessly, looping her hands around Annette’s neck once they stop hugging.

“It was fine,” Annette responds lightly, planting her hands on Mercedes’s hips. “No trouble at all.” She smiles brightly, her teal eyes meeting Mercedes’s brown. “So- what’s going on?” Ashe and Dedue have returned from the stables and Dedue opens the door, directing them inside. 

Mercedes glances at Dedue briefly before speaking. “Dimitri wants to see you,” she clears her throat. “We can talk there.” Dedue leads them down a corridor that connects to a giant hallway. Annette’s never spent much time in the palace, a week here or there, especially in the aftermath of the fall of Garreg Mach. She’s more familiar with Fhirdiad because that is where the School of Sorcery is located, but she has spent little time in the palace at all.

They go through several hallways before going up a flight of stairs, leading to a small office. Dimitri’s in there, waiting for him as he goes through several sheets of parchment. 

“Annette, Ashe.” He stands up when they enter. “It’s good to see you. Thank you for coming.” Unfortunately, they didn’t get to spend very much time at Garreg Mach Monastery together during the Millenium Festival. Mercedes had planned a dinner for them, but that all went to waste when Edelgard revealed herself and the Empire attacked the monastery. This is her first real look at Dimitri since they last saw him and he’s grown taller and his hair is longer, which he keeps tied up in a short ponytail. Mercedes had said that Dimitri was busy traveling around Faerghus ensuring support for his father when the time came. 

“Prince Dimitri,” Annette curtsies and Ashe bows. Her uncle was not happy when he heard Annette addressing him so formally. He re-drilled into her the common courtesy that Dimitri deserved, and it seems that Ashe received similar training as well.

“Please,” Dimitri waves a hand. “We’re friends, it’s Dimitri.” He corrects, standing firm. Dedue and Mercedes have left, most likely to collect the others. They’ve closed the door behind them. He directs them to sit in the office chairs. “You must be wondering why I’ve called you here.” He circles around his desk, standing in front of it. “I know it’s been quite sometime since we last spoke with each other and I want to apologize on that. My responsibilities got in the way of keeping our friendship.”

Annette wanted to say that it was alright. His grief at losing El broke him at the monastery; it was her and Ingrid who had to clean El’s room up before they had evacuated. She had so many books in her room that Ingrid took with her back to Galatea along with her trunk. After that, things had happened so quickly. The border was secured and every single week people waited for news of the Empire attacking the border never materialized. The Millenium Festival was the first real break anyone had, but still ended poorly.

Ashe nods, and Dimitri continues. “As you know, I was meeting with Claude at the Millenium Festival,” he clears his throat. “He has chosen to meet with me at a neutral location.” This...was interesting news. Claude liked to tease at the monastery about her songs. It was kind of like with Felix, except Felix was worse because he was always staring at her. With Claude, it just felt like another piece of information that he wrote in some notebook or something. 

She glances at Ashe for his reaction, Ashe had Bow seminars with Claude at the monastery so perhaps he knew him better than she did. All Claude knew about her was that she liked to sing and dance to silly songs. Ashe’s face is blank as he keeps his eyes on Dimitri.

“I’d like you to be there when I meet him,” Dimitri announces finally, sitting down on his desk, looking at the two of them. “I know it’s been quite sometime but we’re planning on keeping this a secret for now. There are many in the Kingdom who don’t trust Claude and I was hoping that having known him at the Academy, it would be nice for those who were there to have an open mind.” Annette blinks, surprised. 

This would mean that she and Ashe were in Dimitri’s inner circle then. That he considered them to be part of his inner circle. “Of course!” Annette blurts out excitedly. She glances at Ashe expectantly, who nods. “We’d be happy to be there, Dimitri.”

Dimitri’s shoulders go slack and his hands fall to his sides, releasing his desk. “Thank you my friends,” he murmurs quietly. “Hopefully we will find a path to Fodlan’s peace there.”

* * *

(17th Day of Guardian Moon, 1186)

Dimitri unfurls a map, showing the northern part of Fodlan. It’s old and dingy and he’s been meaning to replace it because he’s had it since the Academy days, but he can seem to make himself throw it away. But it serves its purpose as it shows directly the border between the Kingdom and the Alliance. There’s a circle that marks where Conand Tower stands, and he brushes his hand around it before realizing that Sylvain was staring at him.

He coughs, stepping away from the map. The others are waiting for him. Once he got Ashe and Annette’s acceptance to help him travel to Ailell, there wasn’t a moment to waste. Claude would be waiting there at month’s end for him.

Ailell, or the Valley of Torment, was located in a small corner of the Leicester Alliance, a bit north of the territory of Daphnel. Despite its location to the Faerghus Sound, it was still a volcanic body that would ooze lava day in and day out. Claude wouldn’t say why he wanted to meet there. Probably because no one would ever want to meet in such a horrific location that was cursed by the Goddess. Which made sense for Claude.

“We’re bringing a small party,” he announces to the others. Felix, Mercedes, Dedue, Sylvain, Ingrid, Ashe, Annette, and Glenn are all in attendance. He informed his father and Lord Rodrigue of his plan, which wasn’t received very well. All they have to go off Claude is the fact that he has kept the Alliance lords guessing and squabbling over their positions. He was known for his tricks on the Kingdom. “No one outside of this room except for my father and Lord Rodrigue know what we are planning and we expect to keep it that way, are we clear?”

It’s not just the Empire they have to worry about. There are many in the Kingdom who don’t trust Claude; they’ve made it very clear to Dimitri when he speaks to them. Some of them hope for peace with the Empire instead, which at this point is unacceptable. 

There are also others in the Alliance who hope for peace with the Kingdom as well, Claude has explained. The major player being Count Gloucester, who is amongst one of the richest and powerful members of the Alliance. If he turns against Claude and sides with the Empire, it could spell trouble for the Alliance and eventually the Kingdom.

Ailell is close to Galatea territory, just over the Oghma mountain range that separates the two countries. 

“What exactly are we hoping to achieve here?” Sylvain asks quietly, keeping his eyes on the map. Of all his friends, Sylvain has changed the most. He still flirts from time to time, but most of his energy is spent on securing support for Dimitri and defending the Sreng border. A change came over him after the fall of Garreg Mach, and he sometimes misses the old Sylvain, the one that used to tease him. 

“An alliance against the Empire, right?” Annette states nervously. He knows what he risks by bringing Annette in. Her uncle does not trust Claude and believes that resistance against the Empire is almost futile. But he trusts Annette, and so does Mercedes. He believes the two would die for each other. “That’s the endgame.”

Ashe nods, saying very little. Also, an additional risk is Ashe. He’s not the malicious sort, but he has other loyalties outside of the Blue Lions. He has served in Arianrhod defensive line for many years and has received praise and commendation for his dedication that has gone up the line to his father. No requests for promotion, of course, but that has to do more with his standing as a commoner and orphan than anything.

But Dimitri trusts them, he always has. “Yes,” Dimitri agrees. “But we must show Claude that we are trustworthy, that it is worth meeting us even in Ailell.” He drums his fingers along the desk. There will be no one else in their group that isn't already in this room, not even a part of the Royal Guard. They are keeping it small and close knit despite his father’s protests. 

Ingrid frowns, “Should Claude be proving to us that he’s trustworthy?” She questions. She did not have a good relationship with Claude at the monastery, mostly one borne out of each other’s stubbornness. Ingrid had a tendency to mother people and Claude didn’t seem to appreciate that. Not that he ever spoke negatively of Ingrid, but they didn’t like each other and that was that. 

“Claude’s not going to do anything that involves him sticking out his neck for us,” Felix argues alongside Ingrid. Felix still...dislikes him. He’s not going anywhere, but he still doesn’t like him. “But at this point, we have no other option,” he concludes. Felix has kept silent since returning from the monastery. It’s concerning, but at this point, Dimitri isn’t going to bother him about it.

“It’s worth a shot,” Mercedes murmurs quietly, leaning her back against the wall. She pushes a lock of her short hair behind her ear. “If we are going to defeat the Empire, we’re going to need the Alliance.”

Dimitri nods, stepping forward once again. “We won’t be able to scout the location out without generating questions but our basic understanding of Ailell is that there are only a few ways in and out of that valley.” For the lack of a better term, Ailell would be hell personified. 

Burning heat and an odious smell. It would not be anyone’s first choice for peace talks, which is probably why Claude chose it. They’ve discussed tentative first steps for their two countries if the peace talks go well, but Claude has refused to commit to anything. It’s a wonder Glenn didn’t go bald communicating with the cunning leader. “We leave on the 28th for Ailell,” Dimitri orders, looking at them all. He gets different looks of trepidation but it’s the most he can ask for. 

* * *

(24th Day of Guardian Moon, 1186)

“Ailell, really?” Hilda looks up at Claude over the stack of letters he presented to her. She’s not impressed. “It’s a hell pit, Claude. When we had to travel near there five years ago, I almost gagged.” Her boots are planted on Claude’s desk as she relaxes in his chair. He shoos her off. She snags the latest letter from Dimitri, reading it over once more.

“When did you go to Ailell?” He asks curiously, organizing his papers. They clutter his desk- he remembers someone ordering him to clean up his things at the monastery, but he ignored them. Perhaps he should have implemented some sort of filing in his office.

Hilda waves a hand dismissively. “It was something about Mercedes we had to handle,” she answers airily. “It led up to that whole trafficking scandal, remember?” Claude tilts his head, thinking. 

Claude clicks his tongue, remembering. “Right, all of you somehow uprooted an entire human trafficking scheme in the Alliance involving Count Gloucester.” That was a wild time, what started with a trip with all the girls in the three houses ended with a slave trade that spanned all three countries. His grandfather had a fun time trying to get that cleaned up before Claude inherited. As far as he knew, Count Gloucester was still trying to remove that stain from his reputation. 

“Involving is a strong word,” Hilda corrects. “We just found evidence that the creepy merchant was doing business on his land.” She crosses her legs at the knee, staring at Claude. “Now, back to Ailell, really?” She arches a fine pink brow. “It’s so gross there Claude, why?” She whines and pouts. 

“Judith’s already promised to keep news of us traveling there a secret,” Claude snipes back. “If we met anywhere else, Count Gloucester or any of his cronies will catch wind of it and then we’d have a real problem.” He’d never thought he’d say it, but at this point, he was wishing that Lorenz had inherited his father’s seat already. Ailell was part of the Daphnel territory, which meant that Judith could afford them safe passage through her land. Also, it was part of the border between the Kingdom and the Alliance where Count Gloucester and his cronies couldn’t be, so it made it the most neutral part of the Alliance where they could meet.

“Uggh,” Hilda complains, slouching against the bench that he keeps in his office. She knows he’s right. “You really think this will work?” She asks quietly, flopping against the bench dramatically. Her long pink hair hangs over her eyes.

“Yes,” Claude answers confidently. “You saw him, he’s sincere about this.” That was a trait that Claude was grateful for that Dimitri never lost. He already had his hands full with the Alliance nobles, a Dimitri who plotted against him was something he didn’t need.

“Yeah, he’s sincere,” she scoffs. “But he’s also out of control.” She points out. Claude winces, he almost pierced the carriage through in his rush to kill Hubert. Word of that had spread across Fodlan like wildfire, that the prince of Faerghus tried to kill the Emperor the first chance he got. “I trust your judgment, Claude, but I don’t trust him.” Hilda would not be the first Alliance noble to distrust Dimitri, and she wouldn’t be the last.

“We need the Kingdom, Hilda.” Claude states calmly. “We don’t stand a chance against the Empire if we don’t have them.” This was the truth; he had gotten away for five years of stalling against the Empire, but also, the Empire did not make any serious attempts of breaking the Alliance borders. Claude knew and Hilda knew that the moment the Empire broke into the Alliance, many nobles would swarm to their cause. 

“Who’s coming with us?” Hilda asks curiously, looking up. “I assume Lorenz is off our list.” It was regretful, but Lorenz could not be trusted as long as his father still led as Count Gloucester. At this point, it would be safe to assume that Lorenz would side with his father over his friends.

Claude nods, “Lysithea is as well.” Hilda’s head snaps, staring at him. Their pint-sized powerhouse was one of the strongest members of the Golden Deer. She wasn’t reflective of her house’s position in the Leicester Alliance. But the Empire still had its claws in House Ordelia too much for Claude to feel comfortable about having Lysithea as part of their negotiations. It was regretful, and she would probably have a Miasma spell waiting for him when he came back.

“We can trust Marianne,” Hilda blurts out quickly, staring at him. “Duke Edmund has promised his support, right?” Claude hesitates, Duke Edmund has been one of his strongest supporters amongst the Roundtable, including Holst. But he’s not impressed with Dimitri at all, and if meeting with Dimitri is what tips him over to pro-Empire, they won’t stand a chance. He trusts Marianne but her adopted father, he can’t tell what the man is thinking.

“Then who are we bringing along?” Hilda asks, sensing his hesitance. “I’m sure Dimitri will feel great if it’s just you, me, and Judith. He’s going to wonder if you really have the support of the Alliance behind you, Claude.” She presses him. Dimitri will probably show up with Sylvain, Felix, and Ingrid- proving that Eastern Faerghus was firmly on his side. If Dimitri was lucky, he’d probably get Annette in there too. A much better showing that he could ever muster.

“We could bring Leonie?” He suggests hesitantly. Leonie was neutral, she didn’t favor him or Lorenz but she’s not part of the nobility. If she heard him say that, she’d probably shove her boot up his ass. She’s in Deirdriu right now, waiting for news from him. He doesn’t have much to offer, the only thing he’s presiding over right now is three weeks of arguments and loud yelling.

Hilda raises a brow. “She’s been spending a lot of time with Lorenz, if you haven’t noticed,” she points out snidely. “A lot of tea time for them both.” Claude gapes at her. Leonie was known for her dislike of nobles, she considered them to be wasteful and useless at times. He always thought she included Lorenz in that list. He was hoping that she’d be an ally against the Empire.

“Ignatz has promised to support us,” Claude tosses out another classmate's name. “Both he and Raphael have pledged their support.” Hilda stares at him flatly. Claude winces, they made good soldiers, but in the event where Claude had to show Dimitri the unity of the Alliance, they meant very little. Their merchant protection business has been very successful, they’re renowned across the Alliance for their fair deals and excellent protection. He never suspected that Caspar, Linhardt, and Bernadetta had any part of it though. 

“You don’t think it’d be weird if we showed up with three former Empire nobles?” Hilda argues back at him. “They might have left the Empire, but that’ll mean jack shit to Dimitri, Claude.” Claude runs a hand down his face. Hilda had raised all very good points. 

“Fine, if you think Lysithea and Marianne can keep it from Duke Ordelia and Duke Edmund, we can bring them. But if they can’t and this all goes to hell Hilda, we’re going to need an answer for Dimitri, one way or another.” 

* * *

(27th Day of Guardian Moon, 1186)

Lysithea was waiting for weeks at Ordelia Castle. Claude told her that he would write to her as soon as possible but she hasn’t seen a letter from him at all. She’s beginning to think that he lied to her. But eventually, an owl comes in from Daphnel territory inviting her and Marianne for a spot of tea.

It’s a little suspicious, given that Lysithea doesn’t quite know Judith very well. She’s loud and commanding, known as the Hero of Daphnel. But Claude trusts her.

Her parents are still traveling back from Deirdriu from the last Alliance meeting. They indicated that it hadn’t gone well, mostly filled with loud arguments. It sounded like most Alliance meetings Lysithea ever attended. She never stayed very long at those meetings. When she was younger, it was a bigger issue but whenever she lost her temper, something tended to explode. And because she was a prodigy, it was a big explosion.

So she stays at home. But because her parents aren’t here, it’s easy to leave a note with their butler and ride away to Daphnel. It’s a bit of a long journey because she’s not used to riding on horseback for so long. Marianne’s tried to teach her but she just doesn’t have the stamina for it.

It takes her a couple of days to reach Daphnel but when she does, the others with Marianne are waiting for her. It dawns on her that this wasn’t just an invitation for her and Marianne. It was Claude’s way of notifying her to ride to Daphnel. Leonie and Lorenz aren’t there either.

“Are they coming?” Lysithea asks pointedly to Claude who averts his gaze. “You don’t trust them?” Claude nods hesitantly, watching her reaction carefully. She understood it. Lysithea isn’t beholden to her parents’ beliefs but Lorenz espouses more loyalty to his father than Claude might be comfortable with. If they’re meeting with Dimitri, Lorenz might tell his father. Which would be grounds for Claude’s removal as the Alliance leader.

“Why didn’t you just tell us to meet you at Deirdriu?” Lysithea asks quickly. It would have been easier. Lysithea pondered the decision to travel, mostly because she didn’t know Judith very well. Her parents spoke highly of her but Lysithea wasn’t close with her.

Claude glances at Hilda guiltily before taking a step back. Realization dawns on Lysithea. “You weren’t going to tell us!” Her voice raises to a shrill level, Claude winces before taking another step back. “You trusted Linhardt and the others over us!” This hurt. They weren’t even in the same house! Just because Raphael and Ignatz vouched for them didn’t mean that they were the same. One of Judith’s small vases cracks and Claude winces.

Marianne places a small hand on Lysithea’s shoulder. “I’m sure Claude has a good reason,” she murmurs gently. “We aren’t our parents. but he must have feared we would have told them.” She looks Claude squarely in the eye. “Even though I told him that Duke Edmund promised his loyalty.” Claude deflates guiltily. Lysithea stares at him. He knows that she operates separately from her parents. They might be afraid of the Empire, but Lysithea’s already lost so much, what more could she lose?

“I will admit, Hilda had to yell at me before I opened my eyes.” Claude admits, taking a step forward. Judith and Hilda watch him, amused at the turned tables. Marianne was a very good guilt tripper. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Good,” Marianne says softly. “So what’s next?” 

* * *

(31st Day of Guardian Moon, 1186)

“I knew I shouldn’t have worn this shirt,” Sylvain sweats, pulling away the fur-lined collar of the tunic he was wearing. Ailell, as it was known for, was a burning hellscape. It also smelled like rotten eggs all over the place. “Claude really knows how to pick them.”

“What, and freeze the moment you took a step out of here?” Felix snaps snidely. It was still winter in Faerghus, and the snow was nowhere near melting. Sylvain wasn’t sure how, but Ailell still kept burning even during the dead of winter. Felix isn’t in a good mood either, being all hot and sweaty. This is their second day at Ailell, when Claude said the last day of Guardian Moon, he really wasn’t kidding. “Better sweat while waiting for Claude than dying of frostbite.”

Dimitri and Claude have been meeting for the past hour and as always, it’s Dedue and Hilda with them as they negotiate. Sylvain got to say his hellos to the other delegates, or protection detail, before they had to split up and keep a watch out for anyone who didn’t want them meeting. Sylvain isn’t sure who those people are exactly in the Kingdom, but Lord Rodrigue certainly thinks they exist.

He was partnered with Felix as they waited near Ailell for Dimitri and Claude to finish talking. He really did hope that they would be able to make an alliance. At the monastery, it seemed that they were making good steps there, but then Dimitri lost control and all hope felt lost. 

“What do you think happened to her?” Sylvain says soberly. “Her hair, it changed colors.” Felix stiffens, looking away. As always, Felix has avoided talking about his feelings. He didn’t mourn El when she died and the only reaction he had at her survival was to slam Dimitri into a wall. Felix can’t avoid this conversation by walking away.

“Sylvain. I don’t want to talk about her.” Felix grits out, his sword hand tightening on his blade. Sylvain keeps his eyes on Felix; he remembers that Felix and El were close. She went to him for Sword training and he obliged her without complaint. When Felix wanted to learn a little bit about Reason magic, El was the one who taught him despite her very busy schedule. They spent the majority of their teenage years together in Fraldarius. Felix had to be feeling something under his cold exterior. 

“Okay,” Sylvain nods, rolling out his shoulders. “I’m just saying that something happened to her that we don’t know about.” Her hair kind of reminded him of Lysithea once he got a closer look at Lysithea. Lysithea’s hair was more of a pure white whereas from what he saw of Edelgard, hers was more of a silver-white. Whatever it was, it was a far cry from the light brown hair she used to have.

“Of course, something happened to her,” Felix snaps. Sylvain tilts his head, staring at him even further. Felix still isn’t looking at him, but at least he’s talking. “Even if the boar almost killed her, she would still talk to us.” Felix plants his sword between his legs, keeping his eyes down. “She was good at that, forgiving him when he hurt her.”

“What?” Sylvain looks at Felix. “What do you mean, he hurt her?” He exclaims, quietly. His hands tighten underneath his gloves. El never said anything about that. 

Felix shakes his head, “Not like that, you idiot.” Felix insults easily. “Just when we’d have sword training together, he overpowered her pretty easily. We had to get Dorothea to heal her cuts and bruises. He was just being his boar self,” he says darkly. “He should have had better control of himself.”

“She never said anything,” Sylvain says awkwardly. The hardest part of El being gone was that she had always been in the background, supporting them. She helped Sylvain keep up with his coursework. She healed everyone on a regular basis when they went too hard on their training. When she died, it was easy to see what was missing. 

Felix sighs, keeping his eyes low. “She never did.”

They sit in silence for another hour, waiting for Dimitri and Claude to finish talking. Despite not invading, the Empire had managed to fracture both the Kingdom and the Alliance. Dimitri was worried about certain lords amongst the border abandoning the Kingdom, as many were concerned about the Empire’s overt strength. They had the food and the men to supply an army. Notably missing from Claude’s delegates was Lorenz or Count Gloucester. He had heard that Lorenz opposed Claude on many fronts during the school year, but he didn’t think that it would apply to actual Alliance politics. Would Lorenz be petty enough to oppose Claude out of spite?

Movement in the distance. Sylvain reaches for the Lance of Ruin. “Felix,” he hisses, his voice low. “We’ve got movement on the ridge.” The steam from the constant lava impedes his view, but there are definitely people on that ridge right now. Sylvain’s mind races with the possibilities, but there’s no time to waste. 

Felix nods and he scurries down the valley where Claude and Dimitri are meeting as Sylvain holds his position behind a crag of rocks. They don’t have many men with them but thankfully; they do have their house’s Heroes Relics, which will tip the balance in their favor. He doesn’t like the crest system as he’s discussed several times with Mercedes, but he understands why it’s needed.

Stationed in various parts of Ailell are the others, also in pairs. When he sees more men gathering on that ridge, Sylvain backs up slowly, sliding down the valley to warn Dimitri and Claude. Perhaps they should have taken more people after all. 

Sweat drips down his back as he catches up with Felix. “We’ve got trouble,” he says when he meets up with Claude and Dimitri who are both sweating profusely. 

Claude nods at Dimitri, “I suppose the Alliance-Kingdom agreement starts now,” he says casually. He reaches out to shake Dimitri’s hand, in his other he grips Failnaught. Whatever they’ve discussed, it must have gone well, which is good. Sylvain hates to think that he’s sweated it out in this hell pit they called Ailell for three hours just for them not to agree. 

Dimitri nods as well, taking Claude’s handshake. “Any idea on who they are?” He asks hoarsely, keeping his eyes on where they came. 

Sylvain shakes his head. “Didn’t see a banner but it can’t be that large if we didn’t hear about their movements before Claude came.”

Hilda pulls out her whistle from one of her pockets and gives two short shrieks, alerting the others that they have company incoming. This also reveals to their guests that there are people in Aileill but it’s better than them being picked off one by one.

“By the order of Regent Volkhard von Arundel, we demand the surrender of the insurgents and pretenders Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd and Claude von Riegan.” Sylvain turns his head, he knows that voice. 

“That’s Gwendal, isn’t it?” He serves Count Rowe and is known as the Grey Lion in Faerghus. It meant trouble if he’s defected over to the Empire. His presence here means that Rowe has left for the Empire and that Arianrhod is in their hands, which is not good. 

Felix furrows his brows. “It is.” He confirms quietly as they duck behind some rocks, waiting for the others. Steps on the right reveal Ashe and Annette hiding behind the cliff.

Ashe gasps, “That’s Gwendal!” He murmurs, hiding next to Sylvain. “This is not good.” He grips his bow in his hand and he begins to shake. “My siblings…” 

Annette puts a calming hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure they’re fine,” she says quietly to him. “But we need to take care of him first before we jump to any conclusions, okay?” She leans against the rock. “What’s the plan?” She asks quickly. 

Across the way, Sylvain spots the others, waiting for them to act. They don’t really have a plan, he supposes. Just wait for them to get closer and overwhelm them with their sheer advantage of weaponry. This was poorly planned.

“Pull back further into the valley,” Claude states quietly. He’s been keeping eyes just barely over the ridge onto Gwendal’s forces. “They don’t have that many men and I would rather fight them on flat terrain. Going into the valley makes them give up the high ground. We choose where we fight.”

“What happens if they wait us out?” Dimitri asks quickly. They risked the chance that Gwendal would be willing to wait for them to give up their retreat. He could do it, all he had to do was staying there.

Claude shakes his head. “There are too many ways in and out of this valley for him to risk it. They also didn’t bring that many men to cover all the entrances. Judith would have let us know if she saw movement in the East.”

They didn’t bring their mounts into the valley as it would have made it hard for them to breathe. It seemed that Gwendal’s men had to do the same as well. Hilda gives three short whistle blows and points back, giving the sign to retreat further into Ailell. They keep their weapons and shields at the ready in case Gwendal spots them. 

As they go further in, it gets warmer and warmer. Sylvain’s tempted to remove some of his armor, but given that they’re waiting for a fight, it doesn’t seem like it's the brightest idea. Once they’ve regrouped and they’re at a spot where Claude feels comfortable fighting, he raises Failnaught. 

They can see the banner of the Adrestrian Eagle in the distance and Claude aims his arrow for it directly, piercing the eagle in half. It’s begun. 

* * *

(31st Day of Guardian Moon, 1186)

Hilda peels off her armor after they defeat their enemies’s forces and are able to get out of Ailell. Marianne feels the same, removing her dark blue shawl from around her shoulders. Their enemy was called Gwendal, and it seemed that Ashe was familiar with him when he killed him with his bow. 

Dimitri’s removed his fur coat when he approaches Claude. “I’ll see you in a couple of weeks then?” He asks Claude quietly. They haven’t revealed what they’ve spoken about, but Marianne expects them to once they travel back to Deirdriu. She didn’t tell her adopted father about what was going on, and she isn’t sure she will.

Claude nods, shaking his hand. “See you in a couple of weeks.” He rips the flag off the banner that Gwendal had with him, tucking it into his pocket. “Good luck, Dimitri.”

They depart, going their separate ways. It seems that Dimitri and the others are heading back to Fhirdiad while they go back to Deirdriu after stopping at Judith’s castle for the night.

“So what happened?” Caspar asks, curiously. He raises his hands above his head. It was good that Bernadette, Linhardt, and Caspar were there with them. Lysithea had her doubts, but they proved to be quite handy. Bernadetta was able to take their enemies down from a distance whereas Linhardt was able to heal the others when Marianne had her hands full. 

“The Kingdom of Faerghus and the Leceister Alliance are officially now allies,” Claude replies, keeping his eyes on the retreating back of Dimitri. “I need to make an announcement at our next round table.” He pats the pocket where he stored the flag. “This will help prove that the Empire is making attempts to seize territory in the Alliance. We’ll see where the chips fall after that, I guess.”

“Where will the headquarters be?” Ignatz questions quickly. “I assume that Dimitri wouldn’t be comfortable constantly traveling through the borders.” Marianne watches Claude warily. It was a good point- that much travel left them exposed to attack especially if Gloucester was going to oppose their alliance. 

“Garreg Mach Monastery,” Claude says with a smile. “Symbolically speaking, it’s perfect.” Marianne blinks, surprised. It was a neutral location for them both, and they had proven their ability to defend their old school. It could support a standing army and the villagers there had proven friendly to their cause. Claude was right, Garreg Mach Monastery would be perfect to make their stand. 

“We’ve promised to meet there in a couple of weeks. Hopefully, we’ll have the full support of the Leicester Alliance and if we don’t, we’ll make do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the coalition. I hope I made it clear as to why the Kingdom doesn't trust Claude and why the Alliance doesn't trust Dimitri. All the Kingdom has heard about Claude is that he's the ultimate trickster, manipulating the Alliance into inaction against the Empire instead of being blunt with his goals. Whereas with Dimitri, well, he just tried to kill the Emperor and there's the sticky situation of what happened with his uncle a couple of years as well. 
> 
> Heads up, there is no Edelgard POV moving forward. I have to keep some cards close to my chest and Glass Axe is a Dimigard story. If Part 1 and 2 had Edelgard's POV, then Part 3 and 4 will have Dimitri's. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed and leave a comment below with your thoughts and/or critiques. Thanks!


	22. Part III Chapter IV

* * *

(5th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1186)

Ashe is worried. Word has officially arrived that Arianrhod has surrendered to the Empire. This makes everyone in the Kingdom nervous. Arianrhod has not declared war against the Kingdom, but it is coming. Their leadership has chosen to defect to the Empire under Cornelia, the physician for the Royal Family. No one saw that coming. She had been a close friend of the late second queen, Patricia.

It doesn’t make Ashe feel any better, given the fact that he has many friends serving in Arianrhod and his siblings are close by there. They aren’t located inside of Arianrhod, but they live in a small village nearby that could get caught up in the fighting. He explains all of this while cooking with Dedue. He invited Ashe to cook with him. Ashe accepted because it worked out his stress and anxiety.

“I’m just worried about them, you know?” Ashe says nervously, over a steaming pot of soup. “What if something happens? I promised I’d take care of them, but we’re at war. But I can’t leave Dimitri, I already promised him I would stay.” Ashe wrings his hands. It seems like old times at the monastery where he would unload all of his concerns onto Dedue as they gardened or cooked.

Dedue cuts the head off a fish with a loud bang of his cleaver. He slides it over to the bowl, having already been descaled by Ashe. “I’m not sure Ashe.” He admits softly, cutting the head off another fish. “There are many uncertainties right now.” Dedue works as steadily as he always has. When Ashe approached him about his troubles, his only request was that Ashe helps him prepare their dinner.

“Dimitri isn’t going to march on Arianrhod, is he?” Ashe murmurs nervously, staring at the large pot of soup. They’ve already dumped potatoes, carrots, and onions in there and now that’s needed is to let the fish cook.

Dedue pauses in his cooking before slicing off a fish’s tail. “He has not spoken to me about it, but I believe he does not want to spread himself too thin. Lord Rodrigue will focus on Fhirdiad’s defenses while we travel for Garreg Mach Monastery.” Dimitri wanted to leave for Arianrhod at once.

Arianrhod was an important line of defense for the Kingdom. However, King Lambert counseled him to keep his agreement with Claude. If they could defeat the Empire, it didn’t matter who held Arianrhod. Their main focusing would on seizing Enbarr. Lord Rodrigue and King Lambert would focus on keeping Fhirdiad out of Cornelia's hands.

However, because Arianrhod has defected, it meant that the Empire had gained a strong footstep into the heart of the Kingdom. Ashe stares down at his reflection, at the simmering pot of soup. After years of inactivity, it felt strange that everything was moving so quickly.

Claude promised to write to Dimitri once he heard the Alliance’s reaction to their treaty, but given what Ashe heard Lysithea said about it, she wasn’t very optimistic. To reach Enbarr, they would have to go through Alliance territory, which Claude was more than happy to let them do.

If they tried going through the route of Arianrhod, they might be bogged down by months of fighting. Then they would have to traverse through the Oghma mountain range, which would take too much time.

Going through the Alliance is the best way to end this war. But Ashe wishes they would head the way of Castle Gaspard instead.

“We leave for Garreg Mach Monastery in a couple of days, then,” Ashe mumbles, stirring the large pot of soup. It’s almost ready for the fish to go in. Cooking with Dedue feels like they’re back at Garreg Mach Monastery again and doing chores. That year, despite its struggles, was truly one of the best years of Ashe’s life.

Ashe takes a sip of the broth to taste it before Dedue brings the cutting board over. When Ashe nods, Dedue slides the fish into the broth with a sweep of his knife. Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes once the fish is done cooking. He adds a few splashes of seasoning just to brighten the soup up.

“How have you been, by the way?” Ashe asks quietly, sitting on the counter as Dedue begins to clean up. “I haven’t really asked what you’ve been up to these past five years.” Dedue brings the cutting board, the knives, and the bowls over to the sink and scrubs with a wet cloth.

“I have been with his highness,” Dedue answers simply. Bringing the sponge over, he lathers it up, washing the cutting board with gusto. “That is all I’ve done.”

“Have you seen your family?” Ashe questions, watching the soup to make sure it doesn’t bubble over. His focus is on Dedue, however.

“A few times,” Dedue says, rinsing off the cutting board. He places it on the rack to dry and works on the dishes. They have a private kitchen to cook for Dimitri and King Lambert. Dedue is the only one who really cooks their food nowadays.

“When his highness wanted to ensure the Duscur Queen’s support, I rode with him to her court,” Dedue informs him calmly. “I was able to see them for a day or so.” He stacks the bowls in the sink after scrubbing at them with the sponge. He’s very organized in the way he washes dishes.

“Is it true? What happened with Dimitri’s uncle?” Ashe murmurs, softly. He was in Arianrhod at the time but the scandal rocked Fodlan and for others, damaged the trust people had in Dimitri.

Dedue stops in his washing and rolls his sleeves up. “Yes.” He keeps washing dishes as they continue to work in silence.

* * *

(9th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1186)

“So we’re going back to Garreg Mach Monastery,” Bernadetta muses over her plate of food. It’s the first time in a while that she didn’t eat food, that she didn’t prepare herself. The food is excellent, of course, but it doesn’t have her usual Bernie flair. She notes with pride that while Raphael eats with the same gusto, he doesn’t ask for thirds. “Is that really a good idea?”

Caspar turns to her, munching on the same plate of food. He wipes his mouth with his sleeve, much to Linhardt’s dismay. “What do you mean? It’s Garreg Mach Monastery….it’s home.” Linhardt wordlessly hands him a cloth while flipping a page in his book. The library in Derdriu has many works that Linhardt has not had the chance to read yet.

Bernadetta plays with her spoon, keeping her gaze down. “Well, it’s already been attacked twice by the Empire- they know how to attack it and we keep going back to it. Why don’t we stay in Alliance territory, where it’s safe?” She’s gotten comfortable, being constantly on the move. The weirdest sentence she thought she’d ever say, but how can someone attack you if they don’t know you’ll be there? Being inside Garreg Mach Monastery without many defenses, it didn’t bode well for her.

Linhardt nods, his focus still on his book. “You do have a point, but I believe Claude wanted a central location for their forces. He does not want to keep moving over the borders, especially with the possibility of traitors.” He says in an undertone, looking pointedly across the dining hall where Lorenz is dining with Leonie.

Bernadetta’s done her best to steer clear of Alliance politics, despite agreeing to support Claude in the fight against the Empire. But Lorenz’s presence as the scion of House Gloucester was an interesting one. When they met Dimitri at Ailell, they did so without Lorenz and Leonie knowing. That felt weird, thinking that they couldn’t trust them. Bernie doesn’t enjoy lying to people.

They largely did all this subterfuge and secrecy, in part because of Lorenz and his father. Other nobles opposed Claude, but Count Gloucester was the chief opponent. Bernadetta didn’t talk much to Lorenz when they were at the Officer’s Academy. She hid in her room far too much and every time he tried to talk to her; she shrieked and scurried away.

The Gloucester lands were at the heart of the Alliance, leading to the Myrddin Bridge. If Claude wanted to make an inroad into the Empire, Myrddin Bridge would have to be under his command.

She sneaks a look at Caspar. He might not realize it, but if they go the route of Myrddin Bridge, they will have to go through Bergliez lands. Bernadetta’s never returned home and as far as she knows neither has Linhardt nor Caspar, but she won’t ask him about how he feels about running into his father.

When they get drunk, Caspar talks about his father and the expectations of being a man just like him. She’s never met Count Bergliez. Her father didn’t like him. From what she remembers, her father didn’t like any of them. It’s a wonder that they worked together long enough to plot the Insurrection. But Count Bergliez seemed like a strict father, not unlike her own. He had his own expectations for Caspar.

Like she told Raphael earlier, she didn’t know the Hresvelg children. She hadn’t seen Edelgard before. She was supposed to when she was younger when she was more presentable as her father put it. But then they started dying. Her father kept her from Enbarr. Caspar and Linhardt didn’t know them either. It seemed as if the Hresvelg family was kept far away from everyone, isolated in the palace of Enbarr.

But even when Ferdinand was named heir to the Emperor, she stayed in Varley. Albeit, mostly because she never left her room and her father gave up hope in her. However, if he really wanted her to go to the capital, he could have forced her. She represses a shiver. If her father wanted to force her to do something, he could have done so easily. And that wasn’t okay.

It was something she was coming to terms with. That what her father did to her wasn’t alright, and that it wasn’t normal. She had been fine; it was her father who made her afraid of the outside world, and that was something she was working on with herself. She wasn’t useless or selfish. She was just Bernie.

“So, we’re going back to Garreg Mach Monastery,” Bernadetta says again quietly. Caspar and Linhardt were still eating their food, but she was pushing hers around now. She pushes it towards Raphael with a quick nod and he accepts it willingly, dumping it on his plate. Still not asking for thirds, she notes with pride.

Raphael takes her hand into his, still eating his food and smiling. Bernadetta smiles nervously. The monastery was still in pleasant condition, mostly unused but still livable. It would take a lot of time and care for it to become home once again, but if it meant that the war would end? It would be worth it. He pats her hand comfortingly, continuing to eat.

Thankfully, with being at the capital, any bills they had were being covered by Claude, which was helpful. They were getting letter after letter asking when they would be back in business, but Ignatz was still crafting a response for that. How would one explain that they were now fighting for the fate of Fodlan?

* * *

(10th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1186)

“Claude!” Lysithea calls out, catching him after another bitter meeting. Her parents weren’t happy to hear that she accompanied him to Ailell, but that was a decision she made on her own. At this point, she wouldn’t be living very long and she would like to see peace in Fodlan before she passed.

She catches him and Hilda, organizing their papers after the meeting. The Alliance lords hadn’t taken it well that Claude would join the Kingdom against the Empire, but none had announced their defection yet.

She waves a letter in her hands. It was from Cyril. The Knights of Seiros, led by Seteth, had been wandering Fodlan ever since Garreg Mach Monastery fell. Lady Rhea had disappeared during the battle and it left them without a leader. They could not settle in one country because the Empire had declared war against them. They could not without risking their unknown country’s independence. As a result, they were constantly on the move.

Cyril wrote to her as often as he could. This usually meant every couple of months. He wrote to her about what they were doing, any leads they found, or if she had any leads for them. Unfortunately, House Ordelia had no influence or power that could find any leads. Personally, she believed that the Empire had captured Lady Rhea all those years ago.

But Cyril had argued, and she heard Catherine and Seteth in his arguments if they captured Lady Rhea, why was there no news of her from the Empire? They would have announced her execution at the very least. But then again, why was there no news of Edelgard’s coronation? There was proof that the Empire was very good at keeping secrets.

She shoves the letter at Claude with a big grin. The Knights of Seiros had heard of the attack on Garreg Mach Monastery. They had heard about the Alliance and the Kingdom’s treaty. They were willing to support them. After all, the enemy of my enemy was my friend, right? And they knew the members of the Knights of Seiros, they could be trusted unlike members of the Kingdom and the Alliance.

Claude skims over the letter, concerned. He hands the letter over to Hilda, who scrunches up her face. “Who wrote this?” She says with a frown, she looks at Lysithea. “How can you read this?”

“His handwriting isn’t that bad,” Lysithea snaps, snatching the letter back from Claude. “He’s gotten a lot better at it.” His first letter, admittedly, was not great. It looked like it was scrawled in the middle of riding a mount. Then came the second letter, which was not that much better.

Seteth started helping Cyril write the letters, though, and they became much smoother as a result.

“This is good,” Claude says, rubbing his gloved hands together. “We’ll need to keep it a secret, but this is good.” Claude grins, patting her on the head. Lysithea resists the urge to bite him. “Good work, Lysithea.”

Lysithea shoves his hand off her head. “Don’t patronize me,” she snarls. She’s not a child. She’s older than when Claude was at the monastery, and he still treats her like she’s just some kid. If she wanted, she could blow his wyvern out of the sky. But she won’t because it’s not Claude’s wyvern’s fault his rider is a jerk. She looks at him expectantly. “But this is good news, right?”

Claude nods. “It is. The Knights of Seiros, even when displaced, are a force to be reckoned with.” He runs a hand through his hair. “But keep this on the down-low, okay? The Empire declared war on the Church of Seiros, not the Alliance or the Kingdom.”

Lysithea frowns. “It’s not as if this war isn’t going to happen if the Church of Seiros isn’t on our side,” she snipes back, tucking the letter in her side pocket. Claude shrugs, continuing to walk with Hilda.

Lysithea smiles to herself. It is good news though, even though the Church of Seiros’s influence has diminished with the disappearance of Lady Rhea, the Knights of Seiros are still powerful.

They will leave for Garreg Mach Monastery soon, Claude’s leaving Judith in charge of Derdriu with Duke Edmund as Holst will man Fodlan’s Locket in case Almyra attacks. Count Gloucester has yet to announce his decision. It’s not a declaration anyone will take lightly. But allying with the Kingdom is a step needed for the Alliance’s survival.

* * *

(15th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1186)

They’ve finally reached Garreg Mach Monastery, which will serve as a base of operations for the Kingdom and the Alliance. As promised, they bring troops and supplies with them to fortify the former academy. It needs a lot of work. The villagers cheer for them on their way as they know who it was who defended them when Empire forces struck almost two months ago.

Claude informed Dimitri in a letter that the Church of Seiros would join them. Seteth led them and they were offering their support to fight against the Empire and in return, they hoped they would find Lady Rhea there. Annette drums her fingers- no one mentioned the presence of her father. He had not returned with them to Faerghus.

It would be silly to think that someone would ask about her father. The current leader of the Knights of Seiros was Seteth. Her father was an important member of the Knights of Seiros, but he always shied away from leadership responsibilities. Any responsibilities as her uncle complained.

He didn’t want her to go with Dimitri at all. He didn’t threaten her; he just very simply and calmly laid out the facts for her. They were close to Arianrhod, where Count Rowe was. Dimitri was leaving Fhirdiad, which meant that Lord Rodrigue and King Lambert would be left there. They could not defend Faerghus as Dimitri could. They were old men now. But if he was in Garreg Mach, he left Fhirdiad vulnerable and a result Dominic.

Despite his actions, Dimitri was acknowledged as a powerful fighter and leader. He had proven it when he defended his father from his uncle.

He pleaded with her. It would be best if she stayed in Dominic lands. She had taken up Crusher and used it well, but he needed her there. She listened to his words and wrote back. This was not just about their lands, she argued. This was about Faerghus and the fate of Fodlan. This was about her friend, El, who disappeared in the battle for Garreg Mach Monastery and reappeared five years later, changed and cold.

There was nothing he could do to take her back. If he sent a platoon of men to escort her back to Dominic, they would have been seen as a threat. Besides, Mercedes asked for her to be there and as the future queen of Faerghus, her word was very important. Although she spent most of her time baking with Mercedes in the kitchen. Her uncle didn’t need to know that part.

They’ve spent most of the two days they’ve been here, cleaning things up. Dust had settled in their rooms and the kitchens. Thankfully, because Garreg Mach Monastery served as a base for the Knights of Seiros, there’s room for the forces that the Kingdom brought with them. They’re also working on making new bunks for the men that will join them from the Church of Seiros and the Alliance.

To Dimitri’s disappointment, Claude isn’t there yet, but Claude was never on time for anything.

Annette continues to knead the bread that they were making for tonight’s meal. She was never allowed in the kitchens at Dominic, one because it wouldn’t be proper for the scion of the house to work in the kitchens and two, because the kitchen staff still remembered her and they didn’t want their dishware to break. She could have been offended, but then again, she almost broke a vase because she accidentally clipped it with her hip. Despite her best efforts, she’s never going to be very coordinated or graceful.

The kitchen door opens and Annette calls out, “Mercie? I’m in here.” Mercedes had been called out to heal because a soldier got injured by some falling rubble. The monastery was in decent condition but it seemed when that monstrous beast was flying around Garreg Mach when it fell, it damaged part of the buildings.

Her father walks in, with more wrinkles and grey hairs, and his hair braided in a plait down his back. She freezes in her kneading, flour all over her face and hands. “Dad?” She asks quietly.

He freezes, twisting his hands in his black robe. “Annette,” he croaks out, lines on his face turning. “I was hoping to find you.” He hesitates, looking down. He looks older than he has before. He had aged ten years in the five when they had first separated and it looks like he’s aged another ten. Her father is old, Annette realizes, and she barely knows him.

“You were looking for me?” Annette asks softly, realization dawning on her face. He went looking for her. She didn’t have to look for him, he knew that she was here and he came looking for her first.

He nods quickly. “Seteth is reporting to Prince Dimitri,” he explains. “I informed him that I wanted to find you before I spoke with his highness.” He looks at her adoringly. “Oh, how you’ve grown.” She hasn’t seen or heard from him since they all separated. He wanted to go to Fhirdiad to serve under King Lambert again, but the Knights of Seiros needed him and his leadership.

Annette rushes him, hugging him tightly. “I’ve missed you, Dad.” She buries her head into his chest, breathing in his scent. He still smells of oak wood and sweat. He hugs her back, wrapping his arms around her slim frame.

When they pull apart, Annette notices the flour all over his sides, she winces. “Sorry.”

* * *

(15th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1186)

“Cyril?” Ignatz calls out when he spots the former Almyran servant. Cyril no longer wears the brown rough spun tunic but instead, a muddy green uniform with an armored pauldron and a quiver of arrows slung around his back. He’s grown a lot taller as well.

“Oh, hey Ignatz.” Cyril greets him with a quick jerk of his head. “Good to see you.” He blurts, his eyes darting around as if they had not seen each other in five years. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been good,” he says cautiously. Claude had them sent ahead earlier as he was dealing with some last-minute issues with the Alliance nobles. With them, they brought a letter from him for Dimitri. Ignatz hadn’t realized that the Church of Seiros would join them so quickly.

Bernadetta was working in the greenhouse with Raphael as Ignatz was helping clean the monastery. There was a lot of work to be done. The main issue was the pile of rubble in the cathedral. The fish pond also had to be restocked, but the people were beginning to slowly return once they realized that the monastery was being re-inhabited by the Church of Seiros and not rogue bandits.

He believed that Sylvain, Felix, and Ingrid were in charge of the efforts to clear the grounds. Claude warned them that once the Empire learned that they were establishing their headquarters in Garreg Mach Monastery, they would most likely be attacked. But they wouldn’t be taken by surprise again.

“How have you been?” Ignatz asks curiously. He had heard that the Knights of Seiros were running around Fodlan, looking for any clues about Lady Rhea. It surprised him that they were able to travel so easily around the borders, but there must still have been people sympathetic to their cause, even in Adrestia.

“Been busy,” Cyril grunts, still looking around. Ignatz tilts his head curiously. He wouldn’t have called Cyril rude during his school days, but the Almyran teen had a way of making himself feel very busy. “Hey, Ignatz, have you seen Lysithea anywhere? I’ve been looking for her.”

Ignatz blinks, surprised. Lysithea? “She’s not here right now, she’ll be coming with Claude in a couple of days.” He had seen the talented mage both at Garreg Mach Monastery and in Derdriu, and they had shared a couple of pleasant moments. Her abrasive tone had changed little, mostly directed at Claude, but her rushed demeanor had not changed in the years.

Claude, Hilda, Lysithea, and Marianne would come together while Lorenz and Leonie followed at a delayed date. Ignatz had heard rumors amongst the merchants in Derdriu, some he knew quite well from his family and others because of their merchant protection business.

That there was a rift between Count Gloucester and Lorenz about Claude’s choices in allying with Dimitri. Lorenz wanted to support Claude hoping to keep the Gloucester territory and the Alliance independent whereas Count Gloucester wanted to side with what he thought was the winning party- the Adrestian Empire. It was fortuitous for Claude that the majority of the members of the Roundtable along with Judith of Daphnel sided with him over Count Gloucester.

Cyril visibly deflates. “Oh, really?” He mumbles. He fidgets in place, “I was hoping to see her before everything got really crazy.” Ignatz observes him. He did not realize that Lysithea and Cyril had developed such a close bond when they were at the monastery. Lysithea certainly never talked about it but she never spoke much about her relationships at all. Usually, when they spoke, it was more about how he should stand up for himself more.

“They’ve already left Derdriu,” Ignatz informs him. “It will be just a couple of days before they’re officially here.” He keeps watching Cyril quietly. In their group of five people, it’s been interesting to have them pair up together. He usually gets left with Maya when they’re at home. To her credit, Maya never insists on joining them in the field. Any efforts at learning combat have not gone well.

They’ve all tried tutoring her. Bernadetta tried lances with her, Raphael and Caspar tried to teach her how to use axes, and even Linhardt, when coaxed, tried to teach her Faith magic. Even Ignatz tried to show her how to use a bow properly, but that just didn’t go well. Maya just wasn’t meant for fighting. “I’m sure she’s looking forward to seeing you too.”

“Really?” Cyril perks up, finally looking at him. In the five years, Cyril has sprouted like a flower. He was much shorter than Ignatz when he was at the monastery, but now, they’re almost eye to eye with Cyril a few centimeters taller. Ignatz sighs, both Bernadetta and Caspar had been shorter than him while they were at the monastery, but both had grown very much like Cyril. Bernadetta was barely taller than him while Caspar stood half a head taller than them both. “She’s mentioned me?”

Ignatz hesitates. “Not in so many words.” He was still a terrible liar, and he wasn’t going to start his career in lying to Cyril. It could backfire on him very quickly. “But I’m sure she’s excited to see you, they all are most likely.”

* * *

(15th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1186)

“Seteth,” Dimitri greets fondly. “It’s good to see you.” The former secretary to Lady Rhea has changed little over the years. He still sports the same thick greenish hair and goatee. He looks a bit more world-weary now, but they all do most likely.

“Prince Dimitri,” Seteth greets stiffly. “Likewise. I was most pleased to hear that you and Claude are allied against the Empire. It is good, considering the most recent news.” Seteth stands firm and tall, unchanged over the pass of time. “The Knights of Seiros offer you our support.”

“You are still looking for Lady Rhea, correct?” Dimitri asks quietly. Like El, Lady Rhea had disappeared during the fall of Garreg Mach Monastery. Like El, her body was never found. Just like the professor.

Seteth nods. “We have traveled all over Fodlan in search of her. All we have found are rumors and little else. We’ve considered all options and fear that it may be possible that the Empire has captured her,” he shudders. In the past five years, much to Rodrigue’s frustration, the Empire has shown very little of their hand. Their attack on Garreg Mach Monastery was the only one of its kind. The only sign of aggression is a slight closing of the borders; nothing that can stop the merchants but only allowing correspondence from the other two nations inside and not anyone representing them.

If the Knights of Seiros have slipped through their borders, they do so under great danger.

Dimitri clenches his hand, his glove rippling underneath the strain. Control, he chanted to himself. “I see you’ve heard that Arianrhod has ceded to the Empire?” He asks softly. A point of shame and concern for Dimitri and the others. Arianrhod stood in western Fodlan. It was important to hold as it was a passageway directly to Fhirdiad. His father bade him focus on the coalition with Claude, stating that he and Rodrigue would be able to hold Fhirdiad. His concern was to be with Enbarr.

“Yes,” Seteth answers back. “A point of concern for everybody on Fodlan.” He hesitates, clearing his throat. “Will Claude be here soon? I remember that he was never...punctual, but I would hope that he would arrive sooner rather than later.”

Dimitri shakes his head. “We set an arrival date for the 20th of Pegasus Moon. We arrived early to ensure that there were no bandits or otherwise inside the monastery. In truth, we were not expecting the Knights of Seiros to offer their support.” In the past five years, they had very little correspondence with Seteth and them. Annette tried to write to her father, but her letters were returned unanswered and unopened.

Even Lord Charon wrote to Lady Catherine, requesting a response, but those too came back untouched. To see the Knights of Seiros here back at the monastery was surprising.

Seteth nods, not meeting Dimitri in the eye. It’s just the two of them in this ruined cathedral. Dedue left for the greenhouse to see what they could salvage there. “I see.” He says quietly, running his hands over the pew, covered in dust. He looks up at Dimitri, noticing his long shaggy hair. “I heard about the Emperor and who she is.” He remarks softly, approaching him.

Dimitri stiffens. Everyone has asked him questions about that day. He lost control. He became what Felix had always accused him of for a brief moment. He clenches his hands. “They’re true.” He answers back stiffly, looking down at his boots. He only saw her for a moment, only heard her voice for a sentence but he knew who she was, even from a distance.

How her cold eyes dismissed him and how her hair shined in the sunlight. How different she was, compared to when he saw her last. Lively and putting her clothes back on after their night of lovemaking. She looked like a ghost, pale and quiet, as she had appeared in his dreams.

Seteth eyes him warily. “I see,” he scolds. “From what I recall, she was an excellent student. Defeating her will be no small feat.”

Dimitri’s head snaps up from the ground, silent. Seteth continues. “As Emperor, Edelgard von Hresvelg has chosen to continue this war. There is no turning back for her.” He clasps his hands behind his back. “When we remove her, we will most likely find Rhea. Then all will be well.”

Control, he chanted to himself. Control. He could not do what he did during the Millenium Festival. He could not do what he did to his uncle. He could not do what he did when he thought he lost her. “When Claude gets here, we can discuss logistics,” Dimitri announces. “It was good to see you, Seteth.” Dimitri leaves the cathedral, his cape sweeping behind him. El would have not wanted him to lose himself like this. He heads to the training room floor. There must have been training dummies there even now.

* * *

(17th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1186)

Claude dismounts from Ayla, stretching his back. He pats his wyvern on the side with a smile. Ayla, who he hatched from a wyvern’s egg gifted by his parents. They sent her egg with Nader and she was a constant companion by his side. He wasn’t sure how he did it between manipulating the Alliance nobles, but he trained her in three years to fight in combat.

Perhaps trained was too strong of a word, as she nuzzled his side, her horns almost catching on his clothes. Female wyverns were often larger than male wyverns and often more fierce. They had to protect their babies and eggs from predators, human or otherwise.

Dimitri had already been here for a couple of days and they received news that the Knights of Seiros were here as well, offering their support. This came as a surprise to Claude. He figured the Knights of Seiros would be too fixated on their goal of finding Rhea. But just as well, the Knights of Seiros were a force to be reckoned with. He hadn’t intended for the Church of Seiros to exist in his new world order, but he couldn’t be picky. After all, there were several reports of the Empire beginning to gear up for a full-fledged war. Arianrhod had already seceded to the Empire, but they hadn’t declared open hostilities just quite yet.

A carriage clatters into the courtyard and out came Hilda and Lysithea. Marianne dismounts from Dorte with a smile, her skirts fluttering in the wind. He hadn’t expected Duke Edmund’s support. In the almost five years since he had succeeded his grandfather, he still didn’t have a good read on the man. He didn’t know what made him tick, and that bothered him. He knew what made Marianne tick, but the shy girl didn’t reveal the reason behind that, just yet.

Lysithea’s family supported him as well, most likely because of the wishes of Lysithea herself. They were threatened by Empire agents, still under their control since the failed rebellion of Hyrm but, and this wasn’t explained to him by Lysithea. They probably felt some measure of guilt considering what happened to her.

It took a bit of wine and long nights with Hilda but they finally figured out what happened to Lysithea, or what may have happened. If he ever asked her, she’d probably knife him in the gut. He knew the risk she was putting her parents through, and he promised not to fail her.

Hilda was a surprise too. Not because he questioned House Goneril’s loyalty, but the fact that she stayed next to him all these years. Despite her complaints and laziness, she was an excellent partner in crime. She knew people, sometimes in ways that Claude didn’t and unfortunately, the aura that he worked to build did work against his favor. But people trusted Hilda, she could get them to do whatever she wanted, which came in handy.

He was waiting any day for news of Count Gloucester’s defection. Lorenz had softened to him over the years, but his father did not. Unfortunately, due to familial obligation, Lorenz still served his father’s interests. They were after all the family’s best interests. He didn’t begrudge Lorenz of that, but he feared that he would meet Lorenz on the battlefield. He would do what it took to survive, but he’d get no pleasure out of it.

He didn’t expect Ignatz or Raphael, let alone Bernadetta, Caspar, or Linhardt. He had heard about them in the five years; their little merchant protection business earned them many friends in the merchants who frequented Derdriu.

They spoke of the shy marksmen who saw bandits who blended into the forest, the loud axe users who could smash their way through rocks, and the quiet healer whose magic could heal any wounds. It didn’t surprise him that it was them they were speaking of, but that they decided to join in the war. They could have stayed out of it easily. Merchants still needed protection anyway. But here they were, supporting him and the Alliance. Weird people.

There was a chance they weren’t going to win this war and yet, here they were, in something that didn’t involve them.

Cyril skids into the courtyard as Marianne prepares to lead the horses to the stable. Ayla would have to stay in the wyvern’s roost, which she would not be happy about, but unfortunately, she couldn’t fit into his room. Dimitri wrote to him that the rooms were in relatively good condition and that they could still use them. He brought with them a small contingent of forces, but nothing major.

Holst and Judith were still in Derdriu, coordinating with Duke Edmund. Because Arianrhod was taken, the Kingdom could only volunteer a portion of their forces instead of the entire army that Claude was hoping for. They were planning on going through the east, taking Myrddin Bridge, and then making their way down south to Enbarr. This was the best route they could take. The Oghma Mountains could have slowed them down en route.

When he raises a hand to greet him, Cyril runs past him, completely ignores him, focusing his attention directly on Lysithea. He tackles her with a hug, lifting her into the air. To her credit, Lysithea is surprised but reciprocates the hug. He raises an eyebrow at this and Lysithea glares at him.

“It’s good to see you,” Cyril grins when he releases her, which was…. surprising. Based on their interactions at the monastery, Claude would have thought that Cyril didn’t know how to smile. This sounds really awful now that he thinks about it, but Cyril wasn’t exactly enthusiastic whenever they spoke. That was probably his fault.

When they start chatting, Claude decides to leave them be. Hilda already left with Marianne to bring the horses to the stable, and he needs to show Ayla where the roost is. She really won’t be happy when he leaves her there, but she definitely cannot fit into his room. It is what it is.

* * *

(19th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1186)

The past couple of days have been focused on rehabilitating the monastery. The villagers did their best on cleaning everything up in preparation for the Millenium Festival, but there’s still a lot of work to be done. To Hilda’s credit, she’s been helping Marianne in the stables, trying to make sure there are enough supplies for their mounts. It’s hard work, but it’s not so bad with Marianne by her side.

When she went back to Goneril, she and Holst trained together. She had barely taken her certification for Warrior when they were at Garreg Mach, Holst insisted that the next step for his baby sister was to become a Warmaster like him. To her credit, after her first training session with him, she didn’t pass out from exhaustion. It seemed that those goddess awful morning practices with El had paid off, eventually.

Passing out came a month later when Holst ramped up their training sessions together. That’s when the real pain started.

It was hard work, but it was necessary. The Empire had killed her friend, or so she thought, and she couldn’t let them kill any more of her friends. She lifts another bale of hay over her head, heaving it towards the end of the stables. Marianne was organizing the combs and tools needed to care for the mounts, and Hilda was left with the heavy lifting.

To anyone else, she would have complained. Not to Marianne, because then that would have made Marianne feel guilty and she would have tried to lift something and probably get injured. Marianne wasn’t meant to strain herself. Best to keep her mouth shut instead.

One of her couriers runs towards her, whispering into her ear. Empire forces were spotted on the move in Varley territory. She hadn’t expected movement so quickly, but was it surprising? She barely had eyes in the Empire, just merchants that were friendly with her after she filled their pockets, purchasing their trinkets.

“Marianne!” She calls out, “We’ve got to find Claude.” The news of the Empire marching on Garreg Mach a third time doesn’t surprise anyone. It shouldn’t surprise anyone. But this time, the force that is approaching is closer to the size that attacked the monastery five years ago than the one that attacked two months.

The coalition is better prepared and better armed, but it seems the general leading them is General Bergliez, one of Caspar’s relations. She hopes that isn’t his dad because even Holst knows who that man is. If it is Count Bergliez, then they are in trouble. He hasn’t lost a battle in decades.

Hilda will readily admit the cards are stacked against them. Her long nights discussing the situation with Claude have proven that much. It’s the reason why they’re willing to ally with Dimitri and the Kingdom. They need each other if they’re going to survive this war.

They race through the halls to the war council room, formerly the bishop’s room. In the fall of Garreg Mach Monastery, the bishops have all but disappeared from Fodlan. Seteth has had no interaction with them since Rhea vanished. A worrying sign. But they also have bigger fish to fry.

Claude’s been meeting with Seteth and Dimitri this entire meeting, talking over logistics. Holst had to be stationed in Fodlan’s Locket in case Almyra decided that this was a good time to attack, so it’s been Judith and Duke Edmund in Derdriu coordinating everything.

She knocks on the door, pushing it open. The three of them are deep in discussion, looking up to see when she and Marianne enter the room. “Claude, we’ve got a problem.”

Claude looks up and sighs. “Why are those the only words that ever come out of your mouth? Why can’t they be, ‘they've agreed on peace and there won’t be any fighting’.”

Immaturely, Hilda sticks out her tongue and Claude makes a face at her. Seteth and Dimitri both watch, unimpressed. They knew what they were getting into. Hilda flips one of her pigtails behind her, “One of the scouts spotted an army coming through Varley territory, led by a Bergliez. Numbers are more along the lines of the one that attacked five years ago than the one from two months ago.”

“Bergliez,” Dimitri murmurs, thinking. “Like Caspar?” He asks quickly. If Caspar knows this particular Bergliez, perhaps he can shed some insight on him. Not likely, seeing as how Caspar only really knows how to smash things, but it’s the thought that counts.

Hilda shrugs. “We think so, the general is reported to be young, so if we’re lucky, it won’t be his father.” But as it stands, they have less than a week to prepare for another attack on Garreg Mach Monastery. It’s a bit annoying if they had chosen a base within Faerghus or Leceister, they probably wouldn’t have to deal with so many attacks.

But, as Claude argued, their location was a sign to everyone in Fodlan. The Kingdom and the Alliance were making a stand against the Empire, and they wanted everyone to know about it.

* * *

(19th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1186)

“So you’ve been looking for Lady Rhea?” Lysithea asks, sipping her tea. Cyril almost tackled her in the courtyard a couple of days ago, and they’ve caught up a bit. He’s been running around the monastery, trying to clean everything, and this is the first time he’s taken a break. They’re getting ready for the attack from the Empire, and it does worry her a bit. She promised her parents that she would make sure they had a good life and here she was, opposing the Empire when they still had their claws in her family.

Cyril nods, shoving a slice of bread into his mouth. The kitchens have been working into overdrive, trying to make sure there’s enough food for everyone. Anyone who can cook has been pulled in there, which includes Bernadetta, Mercedes, Dedue, and Ashe. They only have a quick break before they have to go back to work, and Lysithea wanted to have some tea before then. “And...Professor Byleth too.” He says in an undertone.

Lysithea blinks, surprised. “Professor Byleth?” She says softly. The professor had disappeared in the fall of Garreg Mach Monastery five years ago and, much to the disappointment of everyone had yet to resurface. Everyone thought they were dead, but Lysithea knew that Claude still had hope. After all, if El- Edelgard was still alive, perhaps the professor was too.

Cyril nods. “Seteth says if we can’t find Lady Rhea,” and he makes a fist at this. “Then we should at least find Professor Byleth, that she would want us to.” Lysithea stares, sympathetically. When they both disappeared, it was a stab at their hopes. How could they possibly hope to stand up to the Empire without either of them?

When Garreg Mach fell, so did a lot of other people’s hopes. The clock tower rings, signaling the passing of the hour. “I have to go,” Cyril says apologetically. “I’ll see you later, Lysithea.” His breaks are short that he can only share a small snack with her before he has to return to work.

Lysithea waves as she watches his back disappear. Unfortunately, with her condition, she can’t do very much physical work. It’s frustrating how it limits her, but Claude has employed her into his tactical team. She’ll be helping plan the defenses for Garreg Mach as the Empire approaches. It’s at least one thing she can do, and she’ll make sure she’s the best at it.

* * *

(23rd Day of Pegasus Moon, 1186)

“Randolph?” Caspar asks, a spoon sticking out of his mouth. He had been hearing around the monastery that it was a Bergliez leading the army and he prayed that it wasn’t his father. He hadn’t seen his father since the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion five years ago, where he was acting strange.

Caspar screws up his face in thought. “He’s an uncle of mine,” Caspar answers, thoughtfully, chewing on the spoon. Linhardt removes the spoon from his mouth tiredly. He really shouldn’t be chewing on metal.

“Do you know him?” Hilda says quickly. She’s been running around the monastery getting everything ready with Dedue, which means making sure the ballistas are stocked with arrows. The walls are secure and the gates locked. The villagers have been warned to stay out of the conflict, which they do happily. Caspar isn’t sure how it happened, but Hilda’s somehow in control of all the information.

Caspar shakes his head quickly. “He was the son of my grandfather’s second wife,” he supplies readily. “He has a little sister? Fleche? But she was only a baby when they had to leave.” He scratches a nail across the wooden table, looking down.

“What happened?” Hilda frowns. “They had to leave?” She tilts her head curiously.

It’s an awkward topic for his family. The first time Caspar asked about it, he got smacked across the face by his older brother, who told him to stop being so ungrateful. His father watched, silent. Caspar never asked about them again.

“When Caspar’s father inherited the title after his father’s death, he kicked out his grandfather’s second wife,” Linhardt explains tiredly, closing his book. “Randolph von Bergliez wasn’t someone who Caspar grew up with, so I’d stop asking him questions. He probably rose in the army ranks in the past five years.”

Hilda stares, silent, but then nods. “Thanks for the information,” she says promptly, walking away. Caspar sighs, he and his family weren’t close, which is why it made it so easy for him to walk away. He would eventually have to walk away after he graduated, so the fact he never returned to his family home was fine. Even if he had to face his father on the battlefield.

“Thanks,” he mutters to Linhardt, pushing at his food. This conversation made his appetite disappear, and Raphael isn’t there to eat the leftovers.

Linhardt sighs, pushing his book away. He appreciates Linhardt right now. He was the only one of the five who didn’t want to come, but he came, anyway. It wasn’t because he disliked Claude, but because it was too much effort. But he was here, anyway. “This is a drag,” Linhardt remarks. He takes the spoon and the bowl away from Caspar, eating the rest of his food. “You know it wasn’t your fault, right? You were a kid.”

His grandfather liked Randolph and his mom a lot, so much so he almost named Randolph his heir instead of his father. But his grandfather died before that could happen, so his father inherited instead. Then he kicked them out. Not even one week after his grandfather’s death. One day they were there, eating breakfast and then next, they weren’t.

He wasn’t sure what happened to them, but if Randolph was able to become a general in the Empire’s army, it was good for him, especially with his father running things.

“I know that,” Caspar mutters, looking down at the table. The past was the past and he couldn’t change it. All he could do was keep looking forward. But if he met Randolph on the field who knows what would happen.

* * *

(28th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1186)

Because of Lysithea’s traps, the approach of the Empire’s forces has been slowed. She employed the use of the pitfalls, wire triggers, even the planting of poisonous oak and ivy along their paths. It’s made Claude proud. Their forces have been whittled down as they continue their advance. Whoever Randolph von Bergliez is, he is very determined.

Bernadetta’s keeping her arrows trained on the main pathway through the monastery. She wonders if her dad is going to be there, seeing as how they went through Varley territory. She hopes he isn’t because he’s never been much of a fighter at all. He could yell a bunch, but when it came to physical combat, he was ineffectual. Not like her, though. She had a whole battalion behind her, waiting for her orders.

A flush goes through her, Claude had complimented her on her aiming skills as did Ashe. She was training to become a Bow Knight, the only issue was affording a horse for her. Not that they couldn’t afford it, but she wanted to save that money for a rainy day.

They’ve been waiting for a couple of hours now once Hilda’s scouts informed them that the Imperial Army was slowly making their way towards the monastery. She’s never going to get used to the amount of death she encounters and causes. She’s excused it to herself for being part of a good cause, but it’s still a difficult concept for her to wrap her head around.

She had almost opposed Raphael and Ignatz about supporting Claude and the Alliance, but there was a part of her that sympathized with them and a part of her that was mad about Edelgard. She and El weren’t close when they were at the monastery. El had allowed her to stay in her room when her own room was violated, but they never talked or studied together.

She hid in her room the entire time and El never attempted to speak to her other than when she was defending her. But in the five years where she traveled around Fodlan, she had gained a backbone, one that she did not want to lose.

She tightens her grip on her bow. One customized for her by Raphael and Ignatz for her 20th birthday. It’s special to her, and it’s been by her side since. Ignatz is on the other side of the gate while Caspar and Raphael are deployed on the ground near the front. Linhardt is in the back with his healing battalion, focused on keeping their allies alive. This is worth it, she chants to herself. Everyone deserves peace. Everyone deserves to be free. This is for her friends.

They are coming. She can hear their footsteps in the forest. She raises her arrow, signaling to her battalion to get ready. This is a battle they cannot lose or it will set them back.

She sees the battalion of wyverns approaching before anyone else does. They’re moving fast and if they don’t get their arrows up, they will pick off the infantrymen one by one. It’s their primary focus, keeping the skies clear so the infantryman and the cavalry can focus on the ground.

She lets out two short whistles, showing for them to strike when they are within distance. She has her arrow trained on the closest wyvern as they approach. Lysithea also had blockades on the ground to limit their approach. But like she said, if the wyverns get close enough to the monastery, then they will all be in trouble. She prays Petra isn’t on one of them and she releases her arrow. A barrage of arrows follows hers, striking down most of the wyverns approaching.

Another whistle in the sky, and the battalion of pegasus knights and dark fliers led by Ingrid take to the sky. This is the signal for Bernadetta to focus on the ground, lest a stray arrow takes down one of their own allies.

Three long whistles and arrows are pointed near the forest, where rumbling shakes the trees. There will be other wyvern battalions, but as long as Ingrid’s battalion is in the air, they cannot risk harming them. They will have to trust in Ingrid and her leadership to control the skies. She does not hear the telltale sign of Demonic Beasts approaching. This is a good sign. They do not need them near the battlefield.

Bernadetta pulls back an arrow and breathes in and out. She fingers her quiver, waiting for the Imperial Army to come into view. When they see them, they will shoot.

* * *

(28th of Pegasus Moon, 1186)

Sylvain will be the first to admit, the battle isn’t going well. While the force that attacks them does not even rival the force from five years ago, it’s a great deal bigger than the one that attacked them two months ago. Even if they’re more prepared, and they were able to whittle down their forces, they just don’t stop coming. He’s seen more dead wyvern riders impaled on the trees than he cares to admit. They’re also riddled with arrows, so he’ll have to thank Bernadetta and Ignatz for that later if they survive.

His father gave him the Lance of Ruin to support Dimitri with, wordlessly of course because no matter what happened, physical and verbal affection was not their family’s thing. He’s exhausted and even though Dimitri and Claude have been absolute powerhouses on the battlefield, they won’t stop coming. This would be like El, to make the first proper battle of the war the very last. She was thorough like that.

Horns echo in the distance, and she hears Claude shout. “Seriously?!” He wields Failnaught as he rides his wyvern, Ayla, into the sky. Sylvain doesn’t look to see who it is. They’ve been pushed against the monastery walls that any distraction means death.

A battalion of knights come into the distance, wielding the Crest of Gloucester. It’s Lorenz. But as Dimitri informed them, it might not be a good thing. Count Gloucester leaned towards the Empire, and if Lorenz thought that the Kingdom and the Alliance were faltering, then he could betray them. He spots the orange hair of Leonie in the distance, noting it to himself. Leonie never gave him the time of day at the monastery and he doubted that would have changed.

“For the Alliance!” Lorenz shouts as his battalion charges towards the Empire, mowing them down. It’s a battalion of cavaliers and they quickly trample the Imperial Army, turning the tide. Claude alights back down to the ground with Ayla, staring mouth agape as Lorenz leads his men against the Empire. He grins, his confidence reignited as they quickly defeat the remains of the Imperial Army.

It’s a morale booster, seeing fresh forces come to their aid so quickly. This may be the changing point of the war, so early in this conflict.

The battle ends quickly, and they approach the location of General Bergliez. Sylvain knows he is related to Caspar, but Caspar knew very little about him. He only knew them when they were young.

He spots General Bergliez; he’s young, around their age, but fresh-faced and determined. His battalion is still fighting, even though they’ve clearly lost this battle. He turns and scowls when he sees Dimitri approaching, his blue cape in the distance. If General Bergliez stays here, he will die here.

“For the Empire!” He cries out, charging straight for Dimitri. Sylvain raises the Lance of Ruin to protect him, but then a wyvern lord swerves up in front of General Bergliez. “Ladislava!” Bergliez shouts, facing the wyvern lord.

“Did you not hear her majesty’s orders?” She hisses sharply. “She needs us alive!” She yanks him off the ground, taking him into flight. They disappear into the clouds. That is that the battle for Garreg Mach Monastery is over. The first step for peace in Fodlan has been taken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately Part 3 is not full of dimigard moments. But I do hope that you enjoy the scenes with the other characters! I spent a lot of time setting up where and why they went places. Keep in mind, I like CF a lot and feel that following canon, the Black Eagles would have never left Edelgard's side. But this isn't canon and they didn't know Edelgard was the Emperor until a couple of chapters ago.
> 
> Dorothea doesn't fight- she doesn't like battle and she doesn't trust Claude or Dimitri. The first battle at Garreg Mach cemented it for her.
> 
> Petra fights for the Empire- she has to, Brigid will be destroyed if she doesn't at Duke Gerth's word.
> 
> Ferdinand is ?. It'd be spoilers to tell you his exact location because I'm not even sure where it is right now lol. 
> 
> Hubert is with Edelgard, duh. 
> 
> Caspar and Linhardt went off on their own mostly because they don't care for the Empire life. Caspar hates injustice and Linhardt decided to follow him
> 
> Bernadetta went with Raphael because I loved the idea of Bernie being brave enough to leave her room but if she didn't fight with the Black Eagle Strike Force, she would have been forced to stay home and that is the literal worst choice for her. So she goes with Raphael and Ignatz. 
> 
> Mercedes, because she's a Black Eagle in this fic, goes to Kingdom after a couple of years in the Empire because her adopted father sucks.


	23. Part III Chapter V

* * *

(28th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1186)

Claude tackles the scion of Gloucester almost to the ground when Lorenz dismounts. Lorenz is a little bit splattered in blood but Claude doesn’t really care. Lorenz really saved their skins.

“Claude!” Lorenz shouts, “What are you doing?” He doesn’t seem quite sure what to do with him as Claude lifts him off the ground in a bear hug, his feet dangling off the ground. Which is impressive considering how much taller Lorenz is compared to Claude.

“I am hugging my friend,” Claude announces, emphasizing the word friend. He drops Lorenz back onto the ground with a grin. His hair is tinged with blood, he spent a lot of the battle in the air trying to control the skies. He and Ayla went through some close calls. He didn’t think Lorenz would be on their side. When he saw the Gloucester banners in the distance, his heart dropped. If Count Gloucester and Lorenz had truly betrayed them, there was no way of them surviving.

Leonie comes in with a smile. “Nice work Claude,” she teases. “We had to save your neck, didn’t we?” She drops from her horse to the ground, eagerly accepting Claude’s hug. He’s seen Leonie around in Derdriu, had dinner with her once, but Lorenz has spent most of her time occupying it. He had invited her to travel with them to Garreg Mach, but she opted to stay with Lorenz.

“It’s good to see you both,” Claude smirks. “Took your sweet time, didn’t you.” He resists the urge to run his hand through his hair, probably caked with blood. He didn’t think that the Empire could muster up such a wyvern force, but then again, they had five years to prepare for this war. His quiver was basically empty, and he had to rely on an axe that he carried with him in case of emergencies.

Lorenz and Leonie look at each other guiltily. Lorenz clears his throat. “There’s been a development,” he states calmly, swallowing. “My father...he’s defected to the Empire, and he’s seized the Great Myrddin of Bridge.” Claude’s stomach drops as he absorbs this news. If the Count has defected, then so will many of the Alliance nobles, especially those who opposed his coalition with Dimitri.

Claude stares at him, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind. It’s not unexpected, Count Gloucester has loathed his family for centuries and he was always prepared for this kind of situation. “But you’re here….” He murmurs gently and puzzled. It didn’t surprise him that Count Gloucester defected to the Empire, but what did surprise him was that Lorenz was here instead.

“I am,” Lorenz puffs up his chest, a mere mockery of the ones he used to do at the monastery. “I’ve chosen to go against my father,” he announces coolly to Claude. “I may not have my father’s support but you will always have mine, Claude. I am here to help, in any way you see fit.” He gives a curt bow, tilting his head down.

This surprised him as during their time at the academy together and outside of it, Lorenz had done his very best to oppose Claude in everything that he did, mostly from the direction of his father. The only times where Lorenz did agree with him were when the benefits to the Alliance as a whole were clear.

Claude nods, “That means a lot, Lorenz, truly.” For Lorenz to stand up to his father for the Alliance meant that he would have to turn back on years of training. Leonie nudges him with a smile, urging Lorenz on.

“I tried to stop him,” Lorenz informs him gently. “He did not want to listen, but before I left, I took this.” He pulls out Thrysus from his horse’s pack, his family’s Heroes Relic. Claude raises an eyebrow at that. Count Gloucester would not be happy that Lorenz absconded with it. “That is why it took so long for us to be here,” Lorenz says apologetically. “Leaving at a time when my father would not suspect us was...difficult. Doubly so, since we were also taking Thrysus with us. But it would serve us better than him,” he says triumphantly.

“You’ve gone all out with this,” Claude remarks calmly, looking at Thyrsus. The Hero’s Relic increases magical power and range, it’s useless in someone’s hands like Claude who doesn’t use magic but it’s a powerful Heroes Relic, regardless. For Lorenz to take this out of his family’s home for their side, his father would not be pleased.

Lorenz sniffs, “Of course I am,” he snaps. “Now, tell me what I can do to help.”

* * *

(2nd Day of Lone Moon, 1186)

Claude pulls out a map of Western Fodlan, focusing on the territories of Gloucester, Hyrm, and the Great Myrrdin Bridge. After Claude informed Dimitri and Seteth that Count Gloucester defected to the Empire and seized the Great Myrrdin Bridge, they quickly went into planning mode.

They had to recover and plan their next attack. They were finally going on the offensive towards the Empire.

“So Count Gloucester has left for the Empire,” Claude comments, pulling out a quill, taking notes on the side. “So that means that the territories around him have left as well.” He looks up at the other two. “It’ll be hard to take control.” The bridge feeds directly into the heartlands of Gloucester land. They’ll have to act quickly if they want to take them by surprise.

‘It’s essentially a fortress on the Airmid River, correct?” Dimitri asks coolly. There was some suspicion towards Lorenz, considering the fact his father just betrayed the Alliance, but when he revealed that he had stolen his family’s Heroes Relic and promptly gave it to Lysithea to use, those suspicions had lessened. He argued that Lysithea was one of the most talented magic users in Fodlan, and she had the compatible Crest of Gloucester to boot as well. One of the most dangerous members of their group just became all the more dangerous with Thrysus in her hands. Dimitri isn't the one with the suspicions towards Lorenz, but they are there.

It’s good to have him on their side, even if he only had a small group of followers leave his house for them. Count Gloucester still controls the main forces. It was enough to take down the remnants of the Imperial army that attacked them but was not large enough to change the course of the war.

Claude nods. “One way in and one way out. Most likely, Count Gloucester will be leading the forces there,” he says with a frown. Count Gloucester is a seasoned military man, perhaps not on the same level as Holst or Judith, but he still remains reputable in the families of the Alliance.

He will be ready for them, waiting for them to approach. Odds aren’t high that he’d trust Lorenz coming back into the fold, considering that he just stole Thrysus from his family home.

“I see,” Seteth concurs. “We will have to prepare for an assault on the Great Bridge of Myrddin. If we fail the first time, it is likely we will never get a second.”

“No pressure,” Claude whistles, musing. “Do we know who the other commanders there will be?” He asks quickly, looking around. The Imperial Army seems to be split between three components, one led by the regent, Lord Arundel, another led by Count Bergliez, and the third led by a motley of generals that have minor split-offs. Count Rowe, who seized Arianrhod is one of them, and another would be General Bergliez who they just faced off against. News from the Empire was that despite his failure, General Bergliez was not demoted. Claude wondered who this Ladislava was, anyway. Who was the _she_ that she was referring to?

Dimitri quickly shakes his head. “We cannot get spies across the bridge. They’ve closed off all merchant movement from the Alliance to the Empire, however, going from the Empire to the Alliance is still allowed. There’s an overflow of merchants waiting outside the gates into the Alliance, waiting for entry.” Merchants were used to traveling between borders, even during times of war. People had to have their goods.

Claude perks up. “Really? We can work with that,” he says with a grin. He has an idea, hopefully, one they can execute with ease.

* * *

(6th Day of Lone Moon, 1186)

Caspar rolls out his wrist, sore from all the writing he was doing. He hasn’t written this much in ages, not since they left Garreg Mach Monastery, and even then, Manuela didn’t have them doing this much writing. She didn’t like doing so much reading, which Caspar commiserated with her. But Claude asked them to do this so he could at least try.

His writing isn’t as neat as the others, but it’s legible for the most part. It seems that a bunch of merchants are stuck at the Great Bridge of Myrddin, which when they take the bridge will lead straight through Bergliez territory. Last he heard, his father was stationed on the west side of Fodlan and his older brother was holding his family’s seat.

Which was good for them. But also bad for Faerghus, most likely if his dad decided to make a push through the border.

Claude wants them to write to the merchants who they know to see if they can get a quick gig protecting them. Apparently, no one knows that their little business has allied themselves with the Alliance and that’s how Claude wants it. 

They’ll get some hired help and once they get through the bridge, they can seize it. It feels a little sneaky, but Linhardt explained to him; it was the best way to cut the cost of life in war, which Caspar gets. The less death, the better. Especially since it made his friends a little queasy. They took a little hiatus to get situated in Derdriu, but now they need to let their steady clients know that they’re back in business.

He chews on the quill that he’s writing with, deep in thought. Linhardt gave him a quick guide he could use when writing the letters. But, Caspar thought, what happened if the merchants were comparing letters? They could catch onto Claude’s scheme and the cat would be out of the bag. He’s been free-writing it these past few letters, and his hand is beginning to cramp.

It’s been a good past few years, traveling around Fodlan. He didn’t think that he could convince Linhardt to join him after Garreg Mach fell. He had asked before, well, everything but Linhardt didn’t seem very interested. But when Garreg Mach fell, Linhardt sought him out, and they escaped together. They never wrote to their families, never faced their disappointment.

They ran into Bernadetta, Raphael, and Ignatz at a local merchant fair, trying to sell some furs, and the rest was history. They’ve built up a nice and tidy business, based mostly on word of mouth. People know them and they trust them, and while Caspar would prefer not to take advantage of that trust, this war needs to end quickly.

Caspar didn’t know El or Edelgard very well. They had seminars together, but she always seemed so distant. She usually paired with the Duscur man, Dedue, when training. She was strong and skilled from what he remembered and so focused, the complete opposite of him. In a simpler world, he would have admired her, but in this world, he didn’t even pay attention to her.

His father’s role in Enbarr politics often flew over his head. His father wasn’t fond of court, too many backstabbing schemes there for him to be truly happy. It always seemed that his father was happiest on the other side of an axe which Caspar inherited from him. But he was willing to seize power when he could; he doesn’t remember his father’s role in the Insurrection, just waking up to his brother giddy with joy about their new role in Empire politics.

He and Linhardt met a year before it happened, probably because their two fathers, despite their distaste for each other, were meeting to plan the Insurrection itself. That was a theory of his own making.

But even then, Caspar’s life didn’t change much. He never went to court, which he was grateful for. There were plans for him to come to Enbarr when he was 8 with Linhardt, but those never materialized. Eventually, those plans died and his father retreated to his old military strategies.

Of course, until Dadga and Brigid invaded, and his father was thrust back into court. Those were a couple of tense months; his father was out on the front lines and his brother was a squire for one of the generals leading the defense. This meant that Caspar was all alone in his family’s seat, just with the servants.

When his father came back, he was just as distant as ever, only with more letters flowing in from the Adrestian nobles asking if they could have their sons squire in his household. He turned them all down and Caspar was left to train by himself in the courtyards until he was accepted in the Officer’s Academy.

He’s never told anyone this, but he studied so hard to make sure he got accepted. Like Dorothea said, being a noble helped grease the wheels, but the Officer’s Academy would never accept a stupid candidate. He wasn’t getting anything from his family, but he still wanted to make something of himself. And the rest was history. It was the best year of his life and it only kept on getting better.

He dips the quill into his inkwell, coming up dry. Caspar frowns, he didn’t think that he was writing that many letters until he notices the stack of parchment in front of him. Maybe he’s getting better at this writing thing than he thought.

* * *

(9th Day of Lone Moon, 1186)

Mercedes focuses on her stitching as Dimitri writes a letter to his father. They’re still moving troops around Faerghus and they have plans for a third of Faerghus’s military forces to move down to Garreg Mach, increasing support for when they attack Myrddin Bridge. Unfortunately, it won’t be very much of a surprise attack. Their forces will be expected as it is one of the two ways that they can approach Enbarr successfully.

They will leave two-thirds of the army around Fhirdiad, near the Talitean Plains in case Count Rowe and his forces chose to march on Fhirdiad. At this point, they’re claiming peace and neutrality, despite attacking them in Ailell. Dimitri isn’t sure what to believe, but as long as they do not threaten Fhirdiad, they can deal with them at a later time. More worryingly is news that more and more nobles are joining this new Faerghus dukedom. Eastern Faerghus still remains a stronghold for King Lambert, but Western Faerghus weakens by the day.

She never imagined being engaged to Dimitri. That was always El’s role in the monastery; it was hard being compared to her. Annette always said that the others were so welcoming to her and Ashe, despite being the outsiders to their childhood friend group. When Mercedes entered the role of being Dimitri’s intended, there was a reaction, especially since she hailed from the Empire. Another similarity to El that she didn’t realize.

They were not mean to her, but there was a distance between them that she could never breach, not like El could. Sylvain stopped flirting with her, keeping her at a distance. Felix, despite reminding her of Emile, kept her away, focusing on his swordplay. Ingrid was so focused on her marriage with Glenn, they drifted apart. Only Dedue got closer to her as they worked together in the kitchens. But she was not El, she couldn’t be.

She was always so sweet to Mercedes when they were at the Officer’s Academy. It was hard to imagine her as the woman who emerged from the carriage, unruffled by Dimitri’s lance. She was complimentary to her baking and magic so that the cold figure by Hubert’s side didn’t seem real. Not her, at least.

She looks at the tall figure of Dimitri, who focuses intently on his letter to his father. She fled to Annette in the middle of the night after her adopted father wanted to marry her off. Which was fine, it was her intended fate anyways but her issue was with the marriage partner. He had chosen Ludwig von Aegir as her future husband.

The thought of it was repulsive. She and Ferdinand had spoken about his life as the heir; how he was pushed into when all of the Emperor’s children passed away. How he saw his father as a power-hungry coward once he learned more about the Insurrection. She missed Ferdinand and pitied him. Did El step over him to claim the throne?

She ran away from home, seeking refuge with Dorothea and the opera company with Manuela. Eventually, with their connections, they smuggled her across the border to Dominic where Annette was. It was terrifying. Every day she was at the opera was a chance for the Prime Minister and his men to find her. She was so grateful to Dorothea and her kindness.

But peace couldn’t last for long. Her adopted father somehow found out that she was in Dominic territory and demanded her return. There, she fled to Fhirdiad, requesting asylum from the king. Annette pleaded for her case with Dimitri, who was so kind to suggest that they become engaged.

It was the act of killing two birds with one stone. Many of the Faerghus nobles were clamoring with King Lambert about Dimitri’s new fiancee as El had passed away. It would satisfy her adopted father, marrying into Faerghus royalty, and it would end the calls for Dimitri’s engagement. They could spin it as a story where they fell in love at the monastery and that she ran away to be with Dimitri.

But even in the three years, they were engaged, he never touched her. Never hugged her or kissed her. El had said that at the monastery, she and Dimitri were going at their own pace, but even then, he never did anything. There were no plans for a wedding at this point, too preoccupied with the war. But that was well enough. Those pointed letters from her adopted father ended two years ago. He had perished in an accident and she was free.

She offered to Dimitri to break their engagement, but he refused, citing the possibility of Ludwig requesting her return to the Empire. And that was that. Perhaps once the war was over, they could move forward, one way or another.

* * *

(10th Day of Lone Moon, 1186)

Lysithea skims over the letter from her parents once more. They did not support her actions, but they did not demand that she return home either. She eats a slice of bread, baked by Mercedes in the kitchen, and the jam that Dedue offered to her. It seemed El told them that she shared the same taste in sweets.

It was good bread, far better food than she was served at home, despite her parent’s efforts. Despite their prominence in the Alliance, things at home were not well. When she was younger, their household had been dominated by the Empire’s agents. They took all food and wealth her family could muster, leaving them to fend for themselves. It did not help that with her condition; she tired easily and required sustenance often.

It was a concerning letter. She had written to them, seeking support in their taking of the Great Bridge of Myrddin. It was close to Ordelia territory, but yet, they still hesitated. She loved her parents dearly, but in the face of opportunity; they were weak. This was a chance to shake off the shackles the Empire had slapped on them all those years ago. This was a chance for them to be free of their expectations. But they would not offer their support outright. It was infuriating. What did they have to lose? Their house had no future, and there were no heirs after her. Their house was doomed, and what was the worse they could do to them that they already did?

The Empire installed those officials out of their household years ago, but Von Aegir had sent letters to them, forcing them to vote in the Empire’s favor when it came to the roundtable meetings. She didn’t like Ferdinand, despite his best efforts, for that reason. Until it became clear that he had no idea of what his father was doing in the background.

She camps out in the library, her usual spot. Because Tomas turned out to be a shape-shifting lizard person, no one was there to lecture her about having food near the library.

Surprisingly, the library was relatively untouched. Whoever it was, they had locked it before they fled the monastery. She had to have Raphael break the lock, if she tried using a Miasma on the lock, it might have blown up the door to the library- which wasn’t helpful or good. She supposed bandits wouldn’t be into higher learning after all.

She hears skipping in the library and ignores it. It could have been anyone at the monastery, Annette liked being in the library too, as did Flayn. Despite her advancements in her magic, there really was no library like the library at the monastery across Fodlan.

Hands slam onto the table and Lysithea jerks, spotting the long pink hair of a smiling Hilda loom over her. Lysithea scowls, slouching further into her book. “What?” She asks grouchily, covering her plate of toast protectively. Hilda had sticky fingers when it came to food, too.

“Oh, nothing,” Hilda trills with a big smile on her face. Lysithea moves her chair away. A smiling Hilda was a dangerous Hilda.

Hilda sits across from her, resting her elbows on the table and her head in her hands, smiling brightly. Lysithea looks down at her book, trying to focus her attention back on. Hilda was trying to egg her, to speak to her. It wasn’t going to work.

She reads through one page, glances up quickly. Hilda’s still staring at her with a grin on her face. She looks down, willing herself to ignore Hilda. She wasn’t the type to ask for things outright; she manipulated and maneuvered people into doing what she wanted. This was why she made such a good partner for Claude because people trusted her and she could use them without them even realizing it. Lysithea saw it in action during the roundtable meetings as Holst eschewed them in favor of protecting Fodlan’s Locket, putting Hilda in charge of House Goneril’s vote.

“What,” Lysithea snaps, closing the book in front of her. All Hilda’s done is stare at Lysithea since she came to the library. Hilda wants something, she knows it. “We don’t have any homework anymore, so I don’t know what you want me to do for you.”

It wasn’t something that she did often when they were at the Officer’s Academy, but she did, on occasion, help Hilda out with their schoolwork when she was helping Cyril. It just came naturally to her, explaining things to people. She didn’t realize that Hilda was guiding her to spell out the answers for her, though. If Hilda put as much effort into her training as she did to get out of it, she’d be unstoppable.

Hilda frowns. “Is that how you think of me?” She asks quickly, tossing her hair over her shoulders. “Holst is already sending down some soldiers from Fodlan’s Locket, so I’ve got House Goneril covered. But I wanted to talk about something else with you, Lysithea.” She smiles brightly, showing teeth. Lysithea slides her chair further away.

“Then what do you want?” Lysithea grits out, staring. It’s an awkward conversation that she needs to have with Claude, about her parents’ lack of support for the Alliance. Claude has excused it, stating that her support was worth a hundred of her family’s men, but they needed numbers, not excuses.

“Can’t a girl just hang out and talk to her friends?” Hilda smiles, throwing her legs over one side of the chair.

Lysithea narrows her eyes. She and Hilda talked about perfumes and dressing up and she appreciated the samples Hilda offered to her, but she simply didn’t have time for things like that. She never would. “Then talk,” she snaps.

“Fine,” Hilda groans. “I was hoping to build up to it but we can do it like this instead.” She taps her fingers on the table. “So Cyril...how long have you been writing to him?”

“A couple of years,” Lysithea sniffs. The first letter she received from him was a shock- she didn’t think that he would actually take the time to write to her. But they kept up the correspondence, Seteth had a personal owl that he let Cyril use when communicating to her. “I’m sure it’s just a way for him to practice his writing.”

“Really?” Hilda arches a finely shaped pink brow. “He seemed pretty excited to see you if you ask me,” She smirks knowingly. Lysithea flushes under her look. Cyril had lifted her clear off the floor when he saw her and every break he had from his work, he spent with her. Cyril had changed a lot since she last saw him. He grew so much, more than Lysithea did for sure- even if they were similar heights, she used heels to supplement hers. Cyril still seemed to be growing.

“What’s your point?” Lysithea snaps at Hilda, taking a bite of her bread covered with strawberry jam.

“I was just wondering what your plans were after the war was,” Hilda smiles knowingly. Lysithea stiffens. Claude and Professor Hanneman could guess all they wanted, but they didn’t know what it meant to have two crests. They knew that she had hers implanted into her but they didn’t know what it meant for her future, for her family. Even if she survived the war, she wouldn’t live very much longer after that.

Lysithea slams her book down. “That is none of your business,” she retorts sharply, storming off. Her heels clip quickly down the hallway. She doesn’t have a future and she doesn’t have plans. All she wants is to make sure that her parents have a good life when she goes.

* * *

(14th Day of Lone Moon, 1186)

Ingrid chews on her lip, worriedly. Glenn stayed in Fhirdiad with King Lambert and his father. She wanted him to come with her, but he was better off not being on the front lines and focusing his attention on the potential lords who could defect from the Kingdom to the newfound Faerghus Dukedom. It was pathetic, these men who claimed loyalty to their monarch, at the first sign of trouble left for the Empire. King Lambert, who through his reforms created a better Faerghus and faced an attempt on his life by Kleiman and his allies, tried to rule the Kingdom the best he could.

There are concerns about more defections in the west. Enbarr has been fortifying their defenses for years, starting with Arundel territory. It was so easy- how could they not have known who El really was? Ingrid knew she wasn’t from Faerghus, she knew none of the childhood tales and customs from Faerghus. She was far too pale. She didn’t like their food. But all Ingrid saw was a chance to show someone her favorite stories.

Everything was falling before their eyes. Western Faerghus could see the Empire building up their border for decades, they knew the innate strength of the Empire, the potential sleeping beast that slumbered during peace. She closes her eyes, missing Glenn’s touch and warmth. She wanted him here, but he best served the Kingdom by King Lambert’s side.

“Morning,” Sylvain greets, covered in sweat. It’s almost mid-day and Sylvain looks like he spent it running around the monastery.

Ingrid dips her head in greeting. She folds up Glenn’s letter delicately and slips into her vest. She can write him back later. “Morning,” she answers softly. She has to take the pegasus out riding, to get any loose energy out with Adele. They’ll fly in the sky and then graze in the fields.

Sylvain slumps over the table, exhausted. He hasn’t gotten his food yet, but it seems that he’ll wait. Sylvain hasn’t changed much in the years. He still flirts, but not as much as he did at the Officer’s Academy. He’s still reckless and irresponsible, but time with Margrave Gautier has him assuming more of his responsibilities.

“Tired?” She asks quietly when Sylvain’s face is down on the wooden table. He nods sleepily, his eyes closed. “Felix?” She guesses quickly. Ever since it was revealed El was alive, Felix has spent a concerning amount of hours on the training room floor. They won’t ask him if it’s related.

“Yeah,” Sylvain groans, pushing himself off the table. “Woke me up early. He’s still there, I was only able to get out because Catherine came and he asked to spar with her instead.” In the wake of El’s death, Felix and Rodrigue have gotten closer, surprisingly. Ingrid was afraid that Felix would always hate his father, but they became closer after El died.

Ingrid makes a noise of understanding. She spent time with Glenn, processing her thoughts. Glenn was not there at the monastery, but she was and she saw her.

The contingent of troops from Fraldarius and Galatea should be here any day. Her family cannot muster as many troops as other families, but they will be no less supportive of their king. Margrave Gautier cannot spare as many troops as the other houses, for he protects the border to Sreng. Their most recent organized attack was less than a decade ago, and Margrave Gautier keeps his attention on that line. He spared the Lance of Ruin for Sylvain, but that means he needs all the troops he can get.

There had been five years of suspicious peace, but after the Millenium Festival, the Empire was making moves beyond the border. “You doing okay?” Ingrid asks quietly. Right after they returned to Fhirdiad, Sylvain disappeared into the night. When he came back, he had hickeys adorned all over his neck. In the past, it would have served as a point for lectures, but in their collective grief, they had let it slide.

Sylvain raises his head, his eyes meeting hers. A moment of silence. “No, not really.” He murmurs. He spins a fork between his fingers. “She’s tried killing us three times, now.” He remarks softly, looking at the wooden table. “She’s not the same girl we grew up with.”

Ingrid makes another sound of acknowledgment. Perhaps that was the underlying sentiment of their group- Edelgard was now their enemy. She was the Empire. And the Empire had tried to kill them three times. El, or Edelgard, whoever she was, she wasn’t the same person Ingrid shared her bed with.

“Maybe we’ll get answers when we capture Enbarr.”

* * *

(19th Day of Lone Moon, 1186)

“A letter from Dorothea?” Caspar asks, his mouth full of food. Bernadetta nods. She didn’t keep in touch with the famed songstress after they all left Garreg Mach, but she made a promise to herself to keep in touch with Dorothea and she was going to do her best.

She hands the letter over to Linhardt, who skims over it quickly. Caspar’s hands are all covered in food and she would prefer to keep the letter clean. “She mentions Petra too,” she offers eagerly. Petra and Dorothea were in the capital with Professor Manuela. It would be unlikely that they could leave the capital for Garreg Mach. Bernie hoped that she wouldn’t have to meet them in combat.

Linhardt nods, reading over the letter. “They're treating this business as usual,” he remarks to himself. “Although, she remarked that the number of soldiers stationed in Enbarr is quickly going down. They must be leaving for other parts of the Empire.” He looks quickly at Bernadetta. “Did the seal come pre-broken?” He asks curiously.

“Yes, why?” Bernadetta answers, it surprised her that her letter could make it to Dorothea and that Dorothea could respond. She only wrote about their merchant business, nothing about the Alliance or the Kingdom.

Linhardt makes a noise in his throat. “They’re reading the letters then,” he says to himself under his breath. “Smart.” He glances at Bernadetta. “It means that we won’t be able to get very much information from Dorothea or Petra without it being censored. Be careful with what you write in the letters, Bernadetta,” he warns her quietly.

She nods, understanding. She was always careful with what she wrote. Her father had a nasty habit of going through her things and anything that he found to be lacking. He took out on her.

“What did she say about Petra?” Caspar says around a mouthful of food. Linhardt slides a quick comment about swallowing. “What did she say about Petra?” Caspar asks again after swallowing.

Bernadetta clears her throat. “She said something about Petra going to see the white roses in the palace but wasn’t able to, that the gardens were closed off.”

“White roses?” Caspar says, confused. His face scrunches up in thought. “Why would Petra care about white roses?” Petra was comfortable gardening; she was an excellent forager and hunter in the wilderness, something that she brought from Brigid.

Bernadetta shrugs, confused. That line about Petra confused her as well. Petra didn’t care much for the greenhouse, only about finding plants that could nourish her instead. Roses were pretty, but to Petra, you couldn’t eat them. Bernadetta personally thought that pitcher plants were way cooler.

“Dorothea hates roses,” Linhardt remarks idly. At their stares, Linhardt continues half-heartedly. “She hates them, she hated it when her dates would bring her bouquets of them. She’s actually not that fond of flowers in general.”

“Then why would she bring up Petra’s interest in them?” Bernadetta says out loud. She really liked Dorothea, but sometimes she made very little sense to her.

Linhardt shrugs. “Petra doesn’t like white roses either,” he adds, glancing down at the letter. “Doesn’t Petra live in the palace? Why would she need to ask specifically to see them?”

“She lives in the palace as a guest of Duke Gerth,” Caspar informs them quickly. “I asked around when I heard that she’d be coming to the academy with us,” he says sheepishly.

“Then why would her access to the gardens be restricted? Why would Dorothea feel the need to bring them up?” When Bernadetta and Caspar stare at him, confused, Linhardt sighs. “She’s writing in code,” he states bluntly.

“In code? Dorothea?” Bernadetta and Caspar glance at each other, baffled. Why on earth would Dorothea need to write in code? They were just exchanging pleasantries, that was all they could do in these trying times. Why on earth would Dorothea feel the need to write in code?

Linhardt sighs again. “I think she’s talking about Edelgard,” he asserts flatly, skimming over the letter. “There really isn’t a point in bringing up roses, you can see them anywhere. Edelgard’s hair was white when it used to be brown, and when you think of a rose, it’s typically red. Red is the predominant color of the Empire, despite our house name being the Black Eagles. In conclusion, Petra tried to see Edelgard but was refused.”

He slams down the letter, exhausted. It wasn’t clear to him at first, but the clues made sense. Petra already lived in the palace, her access wasn’t actually restricted. Perhaps some parts of the building were limited to her, but the gardens would never be.

“Oh,” Caspar looks at him admiringly, taking the letter back over. “That does make sense.” He reads over the letter once more. “They were friends at the Officer’s Academy, all three of them, right?” He asks quietly.

Bernadetta nods quickly. “They became close because of the music performance,” she muses gently. They had all looked so nice that night, singing and dancing. She had stuck close to the walls, feeling like a giant purple wallflower, but even Raphael was able to get her out for one dance. It felt like magic that night. She felt a little left out because all the other girls in her class were part of the play, but then she quickly realized that she would have hated performing.

“I do miss Petra,” she admits hesitantly. She was hoping to see the Brigid princess at the Millenium Festival, but because of Dimitri, the Empire contingent spent barely any time at Garreg Mach so they weren’t able to see her. She wondered what she looked like now. Probably as strong and fierce as she did five years ago.

“They won’t let her leave the capital except to fight for them,” Linhardt notes, slightly bitter. “She’s a hostage for Brigid.” Duscur was firmly on the side of the Kingdom of Faerghus. Sreng was being watched from the border by Margrave Gautier, Sylvain’s father. General Holst, Hilda’s brother, still watched Almyra from Fodlan’s Throat. There would be no chance for Brigid to side with them, not if they wanted to risk Petra’s life.

* * *

(25th Day of Lone Moon, 1186)

“Do you really think this will work?” Dimitri says quietly to Claude over a cup of ale. Several of their friends have left to take their positions amongst the merchant groups that intend on traveling over the Great Bridge of Myrrdin. 

Bernadetta, Linhardt, Caspar, Ignatz, and Raphael had made valuable connections with several merchant groups all over Fodlan and were able to ‘recommend’ new guards for merchants who sought their services. What they didn’t know is that many of those new guards would be their allies. Cyril, Lysithea, and Leonie were paired in a group that had traveled over the border. 

Ingrid, Felix, Sylvain, and Ashe were near the bridge, planning to cross it any day now. The Empire was doing its best to make sure that the Alliance could not infiltrate but they could not catch everyone. They left all distinguishable belongings behind that would out them as an enemy to the Empire. 

Claude shrugs, sipping on his cup. “Not really but it’s worth a shot, isn’t it?” He and the rest would lead a force to attack the bridge once Duke Edmund and Judith would stage an attack in Gloucester territory, forcing Count Gloucester to leave the bridge and leave it without a commander. There would still be other commanders there, of course, but Lorenz was hesitant in seeing his father in combat. 

They received word a week ago that the coward, Weathervane, defected to the Empire, which was expected but also disappointing. Weathervane blew wherever he thought his fortunes lay. Claude was looking forward to having him on the other end of Failnaught if he could get him there. It didn’t matter; Weathervane was a blight on the Alliance and while he was an important piece to the defense of the Alliance, he wasn’t that important.

Lorenz had thankfully supplied a map design of the bridge before he left Derdriu, which, unfortunately, Claude hadn’t thought to consider. Lorenz was surprisingly useful at times. 

The bridge was simple. One way in and one way out. Their mounted fliers could try to fly over the walls but often those walls would be manned with archers, mages, and ballistae. Having their allies within the walls and on the other side of the wall would help but the force needed to storm the bridge would have to be sizable.

Honestly, having Dimitri there would be a big help. He had the force and charisma for people to follow him. People liked him, they wanted him to lead. Not like Claude, whose heritage and background had people side-eye him from day one. Not to speak ill of the dead but his own grandfather didn’t believe him until he manifested the Crest of Riegan and his mom sent him a very strongly worded letter. 

The only downside was Dimitri’s wrath that only manifested once in a while and his self-doubt. 

Dimitri nods, his eyes set on the mug of ale. Claude wasn’t much of a drinker. In Almyra, they preferred to have lighter drinks, like wine or Razi as they referred to it. Dimitri didn’t seem to drink very much either, which made for nights like these a little awkward. 

He had spoken to El mostly during the school year, always focused on learning more about his new home. He had liked her, she judged him on his behavior but never considered him to be an outsider. But she was smart and hard-working, what was not to like. 

When she and Professor Byleth both disappeared, it hit him like a train that ran over him and then backed up. The past five years, he spent playing the Alliance like pieces on the chessboard but now was the chance to actually do something. 

Dimitri needed him but he also needed Dimitri. He raises the mug of ale and sips, still deep in thought. He watches Dimitri over the rim of the mug, keeping his thoughts to himself. There was work to be done.

* * *

(31st Day of Lone Moon, 1186)

It’s taken a lot of work to get to this point. Leonie was with Cyril and Lysithea, both great people who didn’t complain very much and worked hard, but she could not handle the merchants they were with. Ignatz had paired them with that particular group and all they did was complain. 

They complained about Cyril, they complained about the Empire going through their wares, they complained about how long it took to take the dang bridge. When they were finally rid of them, Lysithea looked like she was two steps away from blowing their sorry butts up with a Miasma. 

But it’s fine, they transported them to Varley, they got paid and they booked it to make sure they were timed for the attack. It was a good plan, one perfectly thought up and executed by Claude. Count Gloucester had to leave when he heard that Judith and Duke Edmund were raiding the northern part of his territory, leaving some of his men behind. Which was fine, Lorenz didn’t want to fight his father anyways. 

She had to keep a hood over her hair so Count Gloucester didn’t recognize her. She didn’t think he would, seeing as how he didn’t think very highly of her when she was staying at his quarters in Derdriu. Lorenz had to talk her out of lecturing him.

They met up with Ignatz and the others and were preparing to start a distraction on the southern side of the bridge. Lysithea had to destroy something so that the guards would be distracted. When they left the northern part of the bridge, that was when Claude and the majority of their forces would attack. Because they were in such a small group, they could move quickly around the bridge, avoiding detection. They were small but mighty at this point.

There was Weathervane there, Leonie had to check with Lorenz if it was the same one and he nodded grimly. Leonie was surprised he survived that long. She thought Claude would have eventually poisoned him with his supplies. She was going to enjoy knocking his noble ass down a peg or two. There was another Empire general stationed there but she never heard the name. Ladislava of some sort. 

She spins her lance, pulling it out of a corpse. Claude heeded them to leave as many alive as possible but there were too many of them. It was either kill or be killed at this point. Lorenz had eventually gifted her a horse even after she refused twice but she had to admit, Gunther, came in handy. She was almost done paying her village back, it rankled her the thought of being in debt to Lorenz.

A quiver is slung around her waist as she readies Gunther to charge again but she hasn’t used her bow very much in battle. She’s trained herself to be able to aim while in motion on horseback but they’re in close corners. It’s best to stick to a lance for now. It was another gift from Lorenz, citing the fact that since they would be fighting in a war and she was one of the best soldiers around, she would need the best equipment as well. She couldn’t really argue against that. 

They were advancing on the main part of the bridge, having snuck out of the southern part to regroup with the central force. They would focus on the citadel where certainly Weathervane and this general Ladislava would have their army centralized. They have some of the best soldiers and leaders in their ranks, those who had Heroes Relics didn’t bring them but they were still a formidable force to deal with. They could not take an entire army like Nemesis of old could but they could certainly wreak havoc. 

It’s a hard battle; even though they took them by surprise, their enemies are far better prepared than the ones that attacked at Garreg Mach last month. It probably helps that Lysithea’s traps weren’t here either. Thankfully, Ashe was able to lock the northern part of the gate to stop reinforcements from arriving but it won’t last long. They need to seize the main tower before the Empire’s reinforcements reach the bridge. Claude will let their army regroup before marching into Empire territory but they cannot lose the bridge after they’ve seized it. 

When they’ve taken the northern side of the bridge, Leonie departs from her group to seek out Claude, slightly soaked in blood. The Empire had the bridge well-fortified and well-supplied. They’ll have to rout their forces, every single one of them intent on fighting to the end. 

She finds Claude eventually, cornering Weathervane and his small battalion of men. They hesitate, watching Weathervane’s every move. There is no true loyalty there. 

“You’ve chosen the wrong side for the last time Weathervane,” Claude announces when he confronts the cowardly noble. Claude had him in a corner as Weathervane fled one of the side towers when he realized they were searching for him.

“Ha! The declining Alliance will be finished if I kill you. The Empire will herald the new age!” Weathervane scoffs, wielding magic in his palms. Despite the fact he’s losing and the Empire is slowly in retreat, Weathervane remains surprisingly optimistic.

Claude smirks, causing Weathervane to look worried. “Why are you smiling?” He accuses him loudly. The runes shake in his hands as he stares at Claude. 

Claude’s smile grows even bigger, “Only if you manage to kill me. Hm? What's that to the north? Looks like the home of another opportunistic noble is burning…” He taunts as he points out smoke rising in the north. It seems that he took a little detour before coming to the Great Bridge of Myrrdin.

Realization dawning on him, Weathervane shrieks, “That's... that's my castle! NO!” Even if Weathervane somehow survives this war, he’s lost his castle and all his worldly possessions. But Claude has no intention of letting him survive, even if to let him watch his world fall apart.

“That's the declining Alliance at work, right there. Seems like you were facing the wrong way, Weathervane!” This war was not meant to change the Alliance but it did not mean that Claude would not take the opportunity to remove roadblocks to his power. 

Weathervane tries to cast a Blizzard spell against Claude and Ayla but Claude strikes him down with an arrow from Failnaught. It’s the last time Weathervane will turn against the Alliance. At this point, the Alliance is secure as Count Gloucester will be put under house arrest, just like he promised Lorenz.

He swerved to locate the other general located on this bridge, Ladislava. She’s a Wyvern Lord as well and talented it seems. She brings the Imperial forces to the northern side of the bridge in a full retreat, her eyes tracking Dimitri all the same. She’s been told to watch him, Leonie realizes quickly. But by who?

Claude has their standard planted in the main tower in victory as the blood from Weathervane cools on his armor. The Coalition has won the battle and will continue their approach to the capital of the Empire, Enbarr. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, Part 3 is not chock full of Dimgard moments. I like to call Glass Axe a gen fic disguised as a romance fic. But all of what I was setting up in Part 2 comes to fruition in Parts 3 and 4. So I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Tbh, I was not a big of fan of Leonie, Cyril, or Lorenz in the game and I hope that my bias does not come through when I write. Let me know!
> 
> As always, comments and critique are always appreciated.


	24. Part III Chapter VI

(31st Day of Lone Moon, 1186)

The plan was to continue their march onto Enbarr. However, based on the damage they sustained at the Great Bridge of Myrddin, it might be best to rest and take their time on the approach. They don’t want to overextend themselves and risk the chance of getting cut off from Garreg Mach Monastery.

Count Gloucester still remains in the north, trying to stamp out the flames that Judith and Margrave Edmund created. But Lorenz has assured Claude and Dimitri that once his father saw his cause as a losing one, he would surrender quickly. He swore it.

They needed to remove all the corpses from the Great Bridge of Myrddin, either by burying them or setting them on fire. Claude’s been leaning towards setting them on fire and while Dimitri doesn’t like flames, he concedes to him.

They’re so busy moving bodies that they don’t notice the strange figure on the walls, watching over the walls. They don’t know this person. When Claude finally feels the eyes on him, he quietly alerts Dimitri and readies Failnaught. He aims Failnaught and shoots the arrow, intending to strike them at the heart. When the arrow releases, the figure warps away, disappearing.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t do that,” the figure remarks, standing next to them. Claude jolts and swings Failnaught at the figure’s head. The figure dodges and throws a Fire spell at their feet. They back up as the figure holds the runes a Fire spell at the ready. Dimitri watches this new person, a lance tightly gripped in his hands.

“Who are you?” Claude says loudly, aiming Failnaught at the figure’s head. He won’t miss this time. They wear a white and red mask with small slits for eyeholes. They’re a character for sure, dressed in black robes and a red ribbon coming out of the mask.

“You may call me the Red Queen,” the figure says quietly. “I am neither a friend nor a foe, but here to provide information. Do not trust Cornelia, for she is a snake in the grass and has not been your ally for years.” This figure is unarmed but has proven they can use magic. They might look harmless, but they can summon runes at a moment’s notice. Claude keeps Failnaught down but ready to strike if necessary.

“And why should we trust you?” Dimitri growls, readying the lance at his side. For once, Claude’s grateful that Dimitri is there. This Red Queen cannot dodge both of them.

“You don’t have to,” the Red Queen shrugs. “But if you were wise, you wouldn’t trust Cornelia.” The Red Queen warps away, leaving the two of them alone with their new information. They look at each other silently, absorbing this knowledge. Claude did not know of a Cornelia but it seemed that Dimitri did as he cursed to himself.

Claude sighs, lowering Failnaught. Could they trust this new person and their information? He approaches Dimitri, who still looks confused. “I don’t know a Cornelia, do you?” He asks gently. There was no one by the name of Cornelia in the Alliance near power. No minor lords, nobles, or anyone who mattered. There wasn’t anyone by the name of Cornelia that Claude trusted, but outside of their classmates, he could count them on two hands.

Dimitri’s eyes open, and he nods. “Cornelia Arnim,” he notes quietly. “She is a mage in the employ of my family. She’s been loyal for decades, I can’t imagine her ever betraying my father.” He looks up at Claude, running a hand through his hair, mussing it.

“Some could say about Tomas,” Claude mentions, referring to the old librarian at Garreg Mach. The one who turned out to be one of the perpetrators to all the horrible events that happened during their school year. “He was loyal and then he wasn’t.” Dimitri stews over the turn of events. To be victorious one moment and have their judgment second-guessed the next was not a comfortable feeling.

“Let’s just get this place cleaned up,” Claude suggests. “We can plan our next move when we’re not surrounded by dead bodies,” he laments. Weathervane’s men surrendered the very moment they realized they lost, but the Imperial Army fought to the last man. The only person who made it out of there was that General Ladislava, who he recognized from Garreg Mach. What kind of game was the Empire playing at?

A sharp whistle in the distance as Hilda waves them over on top of the walls. “Claude!” She shouts, “You’re going to want to see this!” She looks excited as she peers over the walls at the gated entrance.

Claude shakes his head as he and Dimitri jog over. He really doesn’t need any more surprises today. He’s mentally and physically exhausted as it is.

A bedraggled merchant waits on the other side of the northern gate with a rather large caravan of supplies behind him. “Excuse me,” he coughs, an old man with wrinkles and grey hair to boot. “Are you the lord here?” He asks tiredly.

Claude stares at him in silence. Did he not see the blood dripping all over him? Did he not realize that they were the enemy in this state?

Dimitri steps in, graciously. “He is,” he says smoothly. “Is there a problem?” Dimitri towers over the old man who looks him up and down. He seems to like what he sees because he continues.

He shakes his head. “No, we have an order of supplies for a Lord Acheron,” he coughs. “A gift for his services.” Claude glances at Dimitri. How to break the news that he was standing in the presence of Acheron’s killers. He continues, “We’ve been paid in advance to deliver the supplies to the Great Bridge of Myrrdin,” he explains absently. “We have been working for weeks to get these supplies here in time.” He looks at him. “Will you make sure these things get to Lord Acheron?”

“Yes, of course,” Claude lies through his teeth. He ushers Hilda and her battalion to unload the supplies from the merchant. “Who ordered these supplies for Lord Acheron, anyway?”

The old man shrugs. “A contact in Enbarr requested them, they paid a pretty penny for it.”

* * *

(3rd Day of Great Tree Moon, 1186)

Word came quickly that Count Gloucester surrendered and was sentenced to house arrest in Gloucester county. Control of men was given to Lorenz, who immediately pledged himself to Claude in the eyes of his men. Claude’s leadership unified the Alliance, now only left the Kingdom and the new Faerghus Dukedom as they mounted their attack on Enbarr.

They would have to go through Bergliez territory on their way to the Empire. Thankfully Count Bergliez was on the other side of Adrestia, it seems that a small army from Dagda landed on the shores in an attempt to attack the Empire. Last they heard, they were quickly being wiped out.

Judith quickly arrived with Claude’s retainer, Nardel, to the Great Bridge of Myrddin. According to Judith, Count Gloucester surrendered quickly once he realized that it was a trap to seize the bridge and to cut off the Empire’s access to the Alliance. They were now on the offensive as the Empire scrambled to reorganize their troops. No news from Enbarr of any requests to surrender.

Annette chews her lip, an owl was received from her uncle, pleading her to return to Dominic. It was urgent, her uncle said, that she bring back Crusher with her as well. Annette paced the kitchen with Mercedes listening to her rant.

“It’s a trap, right? It has to be a trap.” She murmurs to Mercedes, who listened to her so intently. She had taken Crusher with her when she left for Fhirdiad. Her uncle wasn’t pleased that she was on the front lines with Dimitri, but she would have it no other way. He may have raised her, but she was the rightful heir to the Dominic barony. He could not stop her from doing what she wanted.

Mercedes waits patiently as she kneads more bread for their friends. She describes it as stress-relieving to Annette. It kept her sane when she lived at the church with her mother. When she feared that her step-father would force them back home after so many years of abuse. She never did learn what happened to him.

Mercedes nods, she did not know Annette’s uncle very well, only that he took one look at her rained-down bedraggled appearance and left, ordering a fire be lit for her and new clothes be found for her. Annette never did describe him as a particularly warm man. But the thought of him leading his niece into a trap was frightening.

Because of the supplies that came in for Lord Acheron, there are some treats for Annette to snack on but she resists. What happens if other people need them? More than her? She’s just having an existential crisis over her uncle’s judgment. Also, he’s not impressed with her dad either, seeing as how he’s resurfaced after five years of failing to find Lady Rhea. Even when the Kingdom needed him, he chose to stay in self-imposed exile.

She no longer resented him but pitied him instead. Ingrid knocks on the kitchen door, grim-faced. “We’ve got some news,” she informs them flatly, motioning them to join the meeting hall.

They all have their own battalions that support them in the war, but it’s been recognized that Dimitri and Claude have made their council of their former classmates. Judith came a couple of days ago to secure the Great Bridge of Myrddin while they planned their next step.

Would they continue their attack on the Empire, or should they regroup at Garreg Mach and re-evaluate their situation? Because their focus was entirely on the east side of Fodlan, it meant that the west side of Fodlan was slowly but surely becoming a stronghold for the Empire.

Even so, it would take many months for them to approach Enbarr. Should they focus on western Faerghus and remove the Empire’s influence there, to retake back Arianrhod and Castle Gaspard? Should they stop and secure their borders? They did not intend on conquering the entirety of Fodlan, but if the Empire forced their hand who knew what would happen?

Dimitri trusted Claude, but many in the Kingdom did not. They had heard of Claude’s mysterious origin as Duke Riegan’s long-lost heir. They had heard stories of the poisons he liked to use. They had seen him manipulate those in the Alliance for years, never picking a side. Some preferred the Empire to this unknown entity.

What would happen, would they split Enbarr between the two powers? Perhaps she was getting ahead of herself. They had won the Great Bridge of Myrddin, the further they got into Empire territory, the harder it would be for them. The Empire would be in retreat, but then they would be in the Empire’s territory where they were more familiar with the terrain and would have more sympathy.

“What happened?” Annette asks Ingrid when they start heading towards the main tower. The Great Bridge of Myrddin was not a military base but a bridge. It was easy to take because the walls were not well-fortified. The Imperial Army had placed men on the walls, but once they were overtaken, it was still hard to defend.

“Dimitri will explain,” Ingrid mumbles, her face set in stone. Annette was not there for her wedding to Glenn. It was during the early days of this cold war and thus her uncle was not comfortable sending her all the way to Galatea, just to attend the wedding of a classmate. She wished she was there. “But it’s not good news,” she adds darkly.

Annette sighs, they just had one victory, why did there have to be another complication? Ingrid leads them to the meeting hall where the others are waiting. They shuffle in quickly as Dimitri and Claude are near the head of the table. Seteth and the Knights of Seiros are still at the monastery, securing their base as well as looking for any clues or rumors on the whereabouts of Lady Rhea.

When everyone is there, Claude begins softly. “There was an attempt on King Lambert’s life earlier yesterday,” Dimitri sits at the table, his hands gripped into fists. Annette resists the urge to gasp, King Lambert was beloved in Faerghus; a good deal of felt that he should have stepped down and allowed Dimitri to inherit the title but it did not mean that the people didn’t love him.

They just thought with his physical impediment, he was no longer fit to rule. “He is safe, protected by Glenn Fraldarius,” Annette’s eyes flicker to Ingrid in concern, whose lips are pursed tight. “They are both recovering in Fhirdiad. The attacker was Cornelia Arnault, who defected and fled to Arianrhod. The decision has been made that we would return to Garreg Mach Monastery in case there is another attempt on King Lambert’s life. Pack your things, we leave in a few days.”

* * *

(7th Day of Great Tree Moon, 1186)

Margrave Edmund sent more men down to the Great Bridge of Myrddin to occupy it with Judith. With the numbers there, if the Empire tried to take back the bridge, Judith could hold them off until more reinforcements arrived. However, Dimitri’s thoughts are not with the Empire but with his father. The Red Queen had been right, Cornelia wasn’t someone they should have trusted. 

She had entered his family’s service after the plague ravaged Fhirdiad. She had found a cure and treatment for all the citizens in the capital and in gratitude, his family ennobled her and paid her well for her abilities. She was close to Patricia, his stepmother. But she also tried to kill his father. 

He sits on his bed, deep in thought. They had just come back from the bridge and now Dimitri was alone by himself. He didn’t like being alone; when he was younger, it was Patricia who haunted him, but then it was El. Her ghost left him when he saw her staring at him with hatred in her eyes. It was a strange thing to experience while he was at the monastery. 

Patricia left him alone when El was with her as if she couldn’t stand the sight of her daughter. He could sleep soundly when she was around. Her presence soothed him. He couldn’t sleep after she disappeared. Her voice was too loud in his head. Now Patricia was back, asking why he let her daughter get captured.

A hand raps on his door, knocking on it. His voice rough and tired, “Who is it?” It was a long journey back from the bridge and he needs to decide with Claude on their next steps. 

“It’s Ingrid, your highness,” his childhood friend enters the room, a concerned look on her face. Ingrid had remained loyal even in the wake of this war. Galatea was not a prosperous county, the Duscurian farming techniques helped the county flourish, but it could not make up for decades of poverty. Adrestia had active stores of food, if Ingrid defected to feed her people better, no one could blame her. But here she was. 

She enters the room, her hair loose from her braid. She had married Glenn a few years ago, and he had taken her name. Felix, as he reconciled with his father, would inherit the Fraldarius name and title. “Are you okay?” She asks softly; his first thought was to run all the way back to Fhirdiad, his allegiance with Claude forgotten. But he couldn’t, he was needed here. 

Dimitri clears his throat, “I am. You?” He asks quickly. It was always his father and Glenn, they were injured at the Tragedy of Kleiman and here they were, injured again by Cornelia. 

“I wish I was there,” Ingrid confesses, her green eyes meeting his own. “I wish I was at Fhirdiad with my husband.” She sits down on the bed with him. Her knee jitters as she speaks with him. 

“Do you want to go to Fhirdiad?” Dimitri says to her. If she really wanted to, she could go. They would need her in the upcoming months, but if Ingrid was distracted by Glenn’s condition, she would serve his father much better in their company. 

Ingrid shakes her head. “He’s written to me already, he is fine. But I wish I could.” Dimitri nods understandingly. Once this war was over, they would no longer need to worry about the safety of their loved ones. 

He clears his throat once more. “There was someone at the Great Bridge of Myrddin,” he informs her gently. He and Claude kept this knowledge to themselves. They did not know this  _ Red Queen _ , they did not know of a figure in history referred to as that. “They told us that Cornelia could not be trusted. I did not think their words would be so important so quickly,” he muses. He was thinking of writing a letter to his father, echoing the Red Queen’s words to him, but he did not have the time. “They called themselves the Red Queen.”

“The Red Queen?” Ingrid repeats gently. She screws up her face in thought. “I don’t think I’ve heard that name before.” She stands up, pacing. “There are a lot of stories in Faerghus about its heroes, but the Red Queen isn’t a name that I’m familiar with.”

Dimitri shrugs. At this point, they could hesitantly call this new figure an ally, but there was a chance that they would not appear again. 

“A rather dramatic name, don’t you think?” Ingrid says to Dimitri. “Not something people use very often.” She sits back down on the bed with Dimitri. 

“Our founder was called the King of Lions,” Dimitri points out ruefully. “I don’t think we have very much room to talk.” If they were to win this war, what would their names be in legend? Would they make it to the history books?

“Why would Cornelia betray Faerghus?” Ingrid says curiously. “She’s been loyal to your family for almost two decades, what did she have to gain from this?” Dimitri’s hands flex in his gloves. The thought of Cornelia made him furious; he had known the famed mage since he was young. She was always close to his family, serving in Arianrhod faithfully.

“She changed, didn’t she?” Dimitri says out loud. She had been kind when he was younger and then one day, it wasn’t as if she wasn’t kind anymore but different. He coughs, flushing pink at the thought of her and her  _ attire _ . “She was….very modest and then she wasn’t.” As others complained about Fhirdiad, it was quite cold there compared to other places in Fodlan, like the Empire where Cornelia hailed from. They tended to dress warmly in cloaks and furs. But Cornelia didn’t. 

“Are you thinking of Tomas? Or Solon?” Ingrid asks curiously. She spent time at the library in Garreg Mach, not as much as the others, but she knew Tomas decently well. There were no noticeable changes in the librarian that caused any suspicion, but the fact that Solon was able to replace himself as Tomas so easily was interesting.

Dimitri nods, “And my uncle.” Ingrid stiffens since his uncle died, people have avoided mentioning Rufus to him. Most likely because of the role he played in his death. He continues, ignoring Ingrid’s discomfort. His uncle did not haunt him in his dreams. “He had no reason to attack my father like that. He did not crave the throne, he did not want that power.”

Dimitri could remember it like it was yesterday. It was in the months after Garreg Mach fell and Dimitri was beginning to wake from his grief. His uncle threw himself at his father and Dimitri slammed him to the ground, crushing his skull with ease with the Crest of Blaiddyd. His death was quick, but Dimitri could feel the blood seeping into his gloves and his skull breaking underneath his hands. It was in front of the entire royal council. 

There were no talks about punishing Dimitri. He was protecting his father. It took some time for his father to speak to him without hesitation, having watched his son kill his brother, but they repaired their relationship. No one liked to speak about Rufus to Dimitri, his murderer. “Perhaps Cornelia is not Cornelia, but like Monica or Tomas.”

* * *

(10th Day of Great Tree Moon, 1186)

Felix watches Annette pace in the broken former Blue Lions classroom. He had watched her in the dining hall receive a letter from an owl. She paled immensely and excused herself from the meal, and then she walked away. Felix followed her, mostly out of curiosity. Would she burst into song like she used to at the monastery? He hadn’t heard her sing in years; he missed it.

Her hands crinkle the letter as she reads it repeatedly as she paces. Worry lines begin to wrinkle her face. Whatever news she received from that letter was not good.

“Everything alright?” Felix drawls, leaning against the door frame. Annette squeaks and shoves the letter into her inner pocket, surprised at his presence.

“Felix?!” She says shrilly, smoothing out her dress. “How long have you been there?” Her voice goes up an octave throughout that entire sentence.

“Long enough,” he answers, walking towards her. He holds out a hand for the letter expectantly. Annette’s an awful liar and sooner rather than later, she’ll give it to him.

Annette pulls out the letter reluctantly, handing it to Felix. She sits down at the table, her head in her hands. Felix quickly skims through the letter, noting its author. It’s her uncle, the current Baron of Dominic. He’s defected from the Kingdom, turning to the Empire and their Faerghus Dukedom. He wanted to let her know.

“I’m sorry, Annette,” Felix hisses, handing the letter back to her. The western side of Faerghus was always a concern for the King and his father. They did not appreciate how the Central Church handled the debacle between the Western Church and Lord Lonato five years ago.

They did not feel that it was right that it was the Central Church who handled Lord Lonato’s punishment, especially after it came out that Christophe was executed for a plot against Lady Rhea without a trial instead of planning the King’s assassination at the Tragedy of Kleiman. But no one expected them to turn their back on their King.

Annette takes back the letter limply, putting on the desk. She wrings her hands in her dress. “I have to tell Dimitri,” she whispers, looking down at her hands. “I have Crusher with me so I need not go back for it, but I need to tell him.” She looks up at him, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. “My uncle is loyal to King Lambert, but he feels that we cannot win this war. Not with Cornelia on their side.”

“Let me handle the boar,” Felix scoffs, sitting down next to her. “And besides, we just took the bridge to the Empire, the Alliance is fully in our control. The tide of this war is changing.” They would soon march on Enbarr. It was a matter of weeks if not months. The five years of inaction were in the past and they were soon making inroads into Adrestia.

She shakes her head. “He’s worried that if things go into another stalemate, Claude will take the Alliance and form a separate treaty with the Empire. That he’ll pull out of the war now that his control has been secured.” Felix bites his tongue. Understandably, there were lords concerned about Claude’s commitment. Glenn wrote to him for three years and never got a straight answer from him. Only after it became clear that the Alliance was threatened, did Claude move.

After the fall of Garreg Mach, many in the Kingdom considered attacking the Empire once it became clear that the Empire would not be making the first move. They had attacked the Church and was the Kingdom not the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus? Did they not owe an allegiance to the Church of Seiros?

However, there was a divide between those willing to attack and those who were not. There was a chance that if the Kingdom did decide to attack the Empire, they would lose. They needed the Alliance to defeat the Empire, that much was clear.

Felix had yelled at his father when it became clear that the Kingdom was not planning on marching against the Empire. They had lost her to them; she was one of theirs, or so he had thought. She didn’t deserve to die there. It was the first step in their reconciliation.

“I’ll handle the boar,” Felix repeats once again. The turning of Dominic would upset him, but Felix could handle that. In the end, it would make Dimitri more concerned for the King than anything else.

Annette wipes the tears away with her white gloves. “Thanks,” she says with a noseful of snot. Felix resists the urge to squeeze it. Annette wasn’t the type of girl who should be crying. He would handle Dimitri, especially for her.

* * *

(15th Day of Great Tree Moon, 1186)

“Thank you, Shamir,” Seteth says to the former Dagdan mercenary. Shamir nods and walks out, leaving the three of them alone in the council room. She had given a mission report, informing them of the Empire’s next moves. 

Shamir had a true network of spies all across Fodlan, nothing like the ragtag information chain that Hilda had in the Empire. They finally had eyes into the Empire and its actions. Shamir had just reported that there was an immense army gathering at Fort Merceus, deep in the heartlands of the Empire. Centered at the heart of Bergliez territory, it was one of the longest standing fortresses in Fodlan. It had never been captured and was the capital of Bergliez. Caspar had grown up there.

They would need to speak to him about any potential weak spots there once they approached it. However, this army was intended on taking back the Great Bridge of Myrddin or at least halting their progress. They would need to march soon in order to meet them. Fort Merceus would have to wait. 

Judith was at the Great Bridge of Myrrdin with enough men to hold the bridge if attacked by a normal-sized army. The number of men gathering at Fort Merceus would overrun them if they approached. Their armies would have to enter the Empire before the Imperial Army approached. That kind of size would be slow, they could choose the battlefield if they timed it right.

One of the biggest battles that Fodlan had ever seen since the War of Heroes would happen and would most likely happen on the fieldGronder. It seemed fate was cruel like that. 

Men would have to be gathered all across Fodlan if the numbers they were hearing about were true. A battle of this magnitude would never be seen again. It did not help that it was rumored that the Emperor of Adrestia would be there, leading that army along with the Brigid Princess. They would meet them in open combat.

* * *

(16th Day of Great Tree Moon, 1186)

“Any news from Dorothea?” Raphael asks Bernadetta over dinner. She shared the news of Dorothea’s letter with their group along with Linhardt’s hypothesis, that Edelgard was deliberately kept from those who knew at the academy. Apparently, the Emperor was visiting around Adrestia, rallying her people to the cause. They found her inspiring and a welcome change from her predecessor. Even though she was only unveiled earlier this year, her youth and the leadership bolstered their belief in the unification of Fodlan.

Bernadetta shakes her head. “She sent a letter last week about Petra having to leave Enbarr but that was it.” She folds her hands into her lap, staring at the table. He did not like the thought of facing Petra on the battlefield. The Brigid Princess was one of the most fierce combatants in the Three Houses and he doubted little had changed about her.

Raphael pats her on the shoulder, sitting next to her as he continues to eat. The fight on Gronder Field would be the biggest one to date. Hundreds of men were entering the Great Bridge of Myrddin, waiting for them to arrive. They would have to leave in a few days to make sure they could time their meeting right at Gronder Field. The scale of the battle would be like none ever seen before.

He’s written to his gramps and Maya about what had been going on. He doesn’t like to make them worry but there isn’t much they can do. They’re small inn owners near Derdriu and it’s not like they can fight. His gramps is too old and Maya doesn’t like fighting. They tried her against Ignatz, the least intimidating of the five, and she started bawling.

They’ve received news that men are gathering at Arianrhod but not in the scale of the ones gathering at Fort Merceus. But that’s a trouble for another day.

“Raphael?” Bernadetta peers at him with her big dark purple eyes. Raphael is struck about how lucky he is to have such a good group of friends around him. His offer to Bernadetta was more a whim than anything else, he didn’t think she’d actually say yes but he saw how much she was dreading going home so he offered for her to come to the Alliance with him and Ignatz.

And she said yes and because of her, he and Ignatz had a really good business going on with her, Caspar, and Linhardt and he also got to eat really amazing food for the past five years. Maya was a good cook but Bernadetta was the best. He never did ask her where she learned how to cook; he thought as a noble, she didn’t need to learn how to cook, they had servants for that.

Raphael pauses in his eating, “Yeah?” He asks, looking at her. Bernadetta usually doesn’t say people’s names so he’s learned that he should listen to her when she does. She’s got good instincts after all.

Bernadetta raises a napkin, “You’ve got-” she gestures towards his face. She wipes his cheek, smearing away some sauce. “There,” she says, flushing pink. She crumples the napkin in her fist, looking away. Raphael stares at her, his face softening a little.

“Thanks, Bernadetta.” He continues eating, enjoying his meal. He really hopes that after this war ends, he and Bernadetta will remain friends. She was supposed to be Countess Varley and he was just some merchant. He wonders what she plans on doing after the war ends, would she go back home? Bernadetta had mentioned that it was her mother in charge of the county, it was rumored that her father was under house arrest now. Would she go back home to be with her family?

Bernadetta smiles at him, shyly and looks away, running her fingers over the letter from Dorothea. He really hoped that they wouldn’t see Petra on the battlefield.

* * *

(19th Day of Great Tree Moon, 1186)

Hilda catches Claude sitting on a bench after the council meeting ended. He’s lying on his back with his eyes closed. The numbers gathering at Fort Merceus is concerning, as it begins to number in the thousands. Edelgard is gathering an army the size no one had ever seen before.

She pokes him in the forehead, asking him to move. Claude slides down and Hilda sits next to his head. “You okay?” She asks him quietly. Claude’s been busy crunching the numbers. Dimitri can’t get any more troops from the Kingdom; there is concern rising in West Faerghus about Cornelia and her army in Arianrhod. If Fhirdiad falls, there’s no way they can win this war. But they need more men in general.

“What are the odds you can convince Holst to send some of his men down to the bridge?” Claude says, his eyes still closed. Hilda stills, Holst had already split half of the Goneril forces with her and he had the other half stationed at Fodlan’s Throat. It would be really shitty timing if Almyra decided to invade during this time. Half of their forces were barely enough to man the fort, asking for anymore would be risky.

Hilda resists the urge to whine and sigh. That’s not what Claude needs right now. “I can try,” she murmurs, carding her hands through Claude’s tousled hair. There were a lot of people in the Alliance who thought she and Claude were an item which was nice, because then they didn’t get any useless marriage offers. But then again, so did Marianne and she received marriage offers, which wasn’t so good.

“But if we ask for any more, we leave the Alliance at risk of invasion from Almyra.” It was always a concern for the Alliance. The Almyrans attacked at least twice a year. If they timed it right, they could strike Fodlan’s Throat when it was under-manned. The threat of them was always in the back of everyone’s mind. If the Alliance fell, there was no way they would win this war.

“Maybe we can slide some of Gloucester’s men over to Fodlan’s Throat,” Claude suggests, resting his head in her lap. “Holst does not need to come down to the bridge but we need more men. We’re barely cracking five thousand as it is.”

They had more elite soldiers between the ones that could use Heroes Relics compared to the Empire. But the Empire had more men and more supplies. If they could defeat the Empire at Gronder Field and send them running back to Enbarr, they could swoop in and capture Fort Merceus, the Empire’s breadbasket. They could seize the majority of the Empire’s supplies. The western part of the Empire would still be a concern for them, but they could focus on that later. The important part would be seizing Enbarr and Edelgard.

“That could work,” Hilda muses. Lorenz didn’t have many men under his command, most of them still loyal to his father. They couldn’t risk Count Gloucester betraying them on the field of Gronder, but they could rely on him to protect the border. “We should get Lorenz to write a letter to his father. We’ll be cutting it close.”

Claude nods in agreement. His eyes are still closed, Claude’s never been one for big council meetings. The ones at Derdriu drained him as it was, but they would drain anyone. Constant shouting and screaming would be enough to make anyone exhausted.

“Should we be worried about the Empire writing to Almyra?” Hilda asks curiously. The Empire could be as xenophobic as the Alliance, but she wouldn’t put it past Edelgard to consider using the Almyrans as an ally to attack the Alliance. It would be just like her to be so opportunistic like that.

Claude shakes his head. “Not a chance,” he says confidently. Hilda knew that Claude was hiding something about his past from her. She wasn’t sure what it was, but he was hiding something, just like Lorenz had said during the academy. But she trusted him that whatever he was hiding, it would not hurt her or the others.

The Imperial Army at Fort Merceus was potentially ranging to close to ten thousand, which would be insane considering a good portion of the Empire’s forces were still stationed in the west. “You doing okay?” Hilda says again, running her fingers against Claude’s scalp. He nods, tiredly. Claude had finally united the Alliance behind them, but there were many there who thought now that the threat against them was removed, that it would be best to slink back into the Alliance and reinforce their barriers.

Claude wrote a very strongly worded letter to those individuals. As long as the Empire was still armed, they would always be a threat to the independence the Alliance enjoyed.

“I’ll send the letter tonight,” Hilda says softly. They would need to leave for Gronder Field soon, while the Imperial Army was getting more men by the day. If Holst sent his men down to the Great Bridge of Myrddin, they could meet there before they marched on Gronder Field.

“Thanks, Hilda.” Claude murmurs tiredly, his eyes still closed. It’s been a long three months for Claude. It’s been a long three months for everyone. The constant worry about the Empire attacking was far better than the realization that they were waging the war that would change Fodlan’s landscape, permanently.

Hilda tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Not a problem, Claude,” she beams, even though he can’t see it. “But what you could do for me….”

Claude laughs, “You got it, Hilda,” he smiles. “Whatever you need.” Hilda was thinking along the lines of chores with Marianne, like stable duty together. Marianne loved her horses, and Hilda loved seeing Marianne happy. It was a win-win for everybody. Hilda grips his hand tight, comfortingly, letting him rest his head on her lap for the afternoon. The war would be coming to Gronder Field and they would be on the frontlines.

* * *

(23rd Day of Great Tree Moon, 1186)

Caspar smashes an axe into a training dummy. It’s a little last minute, but he needs as much training as he can get before they reach Gronder Field, his home. His father won’t be there, surprisingly, as they have deployed him on the lines in Western Fodlan. This is good because as well as Claude and Dimitri are at leading their armies, his father is better.

“Caspar,” Dedue greets, entering the training room floor with a heavy axe behind him. Caspar nods back, focusing on the stuffed dummy. He knows the Duscur man well enough. He was very jealous of his height when they were both at the Officer’s Academy, as Dedue towered over everyone with ease, including Raphael.

Dedue was quiet, the complete opposite of Caspar. They had Axe seminars where he spent most of his time with Raphael and Hilda. Dedue spent his time training with Edelgard. He seemed like an alright guy, his complete devotion to Dimitri was a little weird but he and Linhardt were best friends so who was he to judge?

“When you get warmed up, do you want to spar?” Caspar asks Dedue as he removes his coat, putting it down. Dedue nods again, stretching his shoulders. Caspar watches, slightly envious. He had grown a lot since their days at the academy, but he would never be as tall as Raphael or Dedue, it seems. His dad had a strong build, like his brother. Caspar isn’t sure where he got his size from, perhaps his mother, but she died before he could remember her.

When Dedue is ready, Caspar raises his axe. They clash, ringing loudly through the courtyard. Dedue is strong, but Caspar is faster, and he tries to use that to his advantage. He spins, swinging the axe above his head, using the momentum to throw it at his torso. Dedue blocks it with ease and pushes back, Caspar skidding back in the dirt. They exchange blows for five minutes, Caspar unable to make a dent in Dedue’s armor.

Panting slightly, Caspar sighs. Linhardt said that his growing period was most likely over and he would not gain very much in height, but he really wishes he was taller. He’s fast, but if Dedue can take the hits, there isn’t very much he can do against someone as big as Dedue.

“Are you alright?” Dedue asks curiously, lowering his axe. Caspar twitches a little, surprised that Dedue had noticed his hesitation. “Do you wish to speak about it?”

Caspar runs a hand through his sweaty hair. “Just thinking about life,” he muses, leaning his axe against him. “What happens next if we survive all of this.”

Dedue tilts his head curiously. “You were working with the others on a merchant protection business, were you not? Would you not return to that?” Caspar glances at Dedue, curiously. They have spoken little about what they were doing in the five years since the fall of Garreg Mach. He and Linhardt were just exploring Fodlan until they ran into Bernadetta and the others and sort of latched themselves onto their group. He figured Dedue spent his time in Fhirdiad, by Dimitri’s side.

“Maybe,” Caspar shrugs. “It’s just five years is a long time to be on the road. I think I’ll want to settle down at some point, ya know?” Caspar never thought about marriage and that stuff. But he’d want to have a home at some point. They had Raphael’s family’s inn as a home base and it’s not as if he had many worldly possessions, but being at the monastery made him realize that eventually, he wanted someplace to live.

Dedue stares, silent. “I suppose so,” he murmurs slowly. Caspar glances at Dedue. He knows that Dedue is incredibly loyal to Dimitri, but where did that leave him? Did he not have goals or dreams for himself? “I have given little thought to that either,” Dedue admits readily.

“You’ve always imagined being at Dimitri’s side, huh,” Caspar says sympathetically. Even though Linhardt’s home was the Hevring County in Western Adrestia, it was hard to imagine them being apart. But they would have to be, eventually. Linhardt’s father was still alive, but eventually, at one point, Linhardt might have to go home.

There was never any official disinheriting for them. In the records, Linhardt was still a Hevring, but that may have been because he was the only one in his family to have the Crest of Cetheleann, so they couldn’t risk losing him. But he hadn’t gone home in five years. They couldn’t have possibly thought he was going to go back?

“How did you meet Dimitri, anyway?” Caspar asks curiously, he’s never been good at geography but Duscur was far away from Fhirdiad. He and Linhardt met because his fathers had a meeting together in Aegir, but that was how they met.

“I didn’t meet him first,” Dedue answers, sitting down, leaning against the wall. “I met Sylvain and…Edelgard first.” Caspar looks at him, surprised. He always imagined that Dimitri had met Dedue first, which was why the Duscurian man was so devoted to him. To hear that he had met Edelgard and Sylvain first came as a surprise.

“They were investigating the Tragedy of Kleiman,” Dedue explains, his fingers tracing patterns in the dirt. “Edelgard was there at the event and she had felt that the people of Duscur were not guilty of causing the tragedy.”

Caspar stares at him curiously, “Wasn’t she like thirteen at that point?” Caspar asks curiously. That would be awfully young to be running around Faerghus unsupervised. Sylvain didn’t count as supervision. Although Faerghus may have been different from Adrestia, he had heard from Felix that they often trained their heirs to fight before they could read. Which, even if Caspar wasn’t much of a reader, he couldn’t imagine having to fight with an axe before he could read and write.

They were similar ages. He might have been two years younger than Edelgard but doesn’t remember the Tragedy of Kleiman very well. His father passed the news along to them over breakfast, speaking as if a new foal had been born in the stables.

Dedue nods, “She was very…small and stubborn.” He admits ruefully. “But she seemed sincere, so I followed them to Fhirdiad.” That must have taken a lot of courage; Caspar certainly wouldn’t have felt returning home after leaving it after fighting on the church’s side during the fall of Garreg Mach Monastery. “I met Dimitri at Fhirdiad, I swore fealty to him two years after when my sister and I were attacked by some of Count Kleiman’s men. I have remained by his side ever since.”

Caspar swallows, understanding. Suddenly it made a lot more sense as to why Dedue was so loyal to Dimitri; he protected his family. “So, you didn’t know about Edelgard?” He asks curiously, “You didn’t know who she was?”

Dedue thinks carefully. “I knew who she was,” Dedue answers slowly. “I did not know what she meant to Fodlan.”

* * *

(30th Day of Great Tree Moon, 1186)

They can see the encampments of the Imperial Army. The fires of their camp dot the landscape, a long line of orange flames in the distance. Sylvain swallows, knowing that tomorrow, they’ll fight against all of those men and they must win. The Imperial Army knows that they are there. They have magic barriers and scouts in place just in case the Imperial Army acts in the night's shadow, but this is it. The tide of the war has been changing in their favor, but this is the real test. They must capitalize on it, or they’ll get nowhere. They’ll never get answers.

Mercedes walks next to him. “Are you alright, Sylvain?” She asks quietly. Sylvain glances at her, surprised by the fact she isn’t by Dimitri’s side.

“I’ve had better days,” Sylvain answers with a laugh. His eyes don’t leave the horizon as the stars begin to rise. The night is here, and it will be long. “You?”

“I’m frightened,” Mercedes admits readily. “People will die tomorrow and it’s under our commands.” She has a battalion of healers that will help across the battlefield, but she herself is trained for combat. They will keep her on the back lines, but who knows what will happen in the chaos of tomorrow. Sylvain certainly won’t.

Sylvain wraps an arm around her, pulling her to his chest. He’s avoided physical contact with her for the past couple of years. Despite El’s disbelief, he wasn’t interested in sleeping with women who already had partners; it wasn’t his style. “We have to, Mercedes,” he murmurs lowly. “They need us to.”

It’s already become clear that whoever kidnapped Flayn and caused Remire Village is working with the Empire. No one is sure who those people are but Dimitri mentioned that Claude was trying to get information out of the others with Empire ties, but no one knew anything it seemed, not even Caspar, Linhardt, or Bernadetta. Their fathers were members of the Seven who led the Insurrection, but no one knew anything at all.

The only people who might know anything were Ferdinand and Hubert. Ferdinand was most likely dead in a grave, while Hubert was hidden deep in Enbarr. Who knew what Edelgard knew?

Mercedes nods, her cap brushing against Sylvain’s chin. Mercedes hated violence for violence’s sake. This war, where its origins were unsure, did not help things. Rhea was missing, the Church of Seiros was in shambles, why would they want a war to be waged? The Empire had dismantled the Church of Seiros with ease, despite Seteth’s efforts. Any churches still operating in the Alliance or the Kingdom were doing so independently of each other, no ties or allegiances to one another.

“Get some rest,” Sylvain says after a moment, pushing her away gently. “It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.” He needs to keep an eye on everyone, but not even Sylvain is sure that he’ll survive to see the night.

* * *

(31st Day of Great Tree Moon, 1186)

They can hear the horns in the distance, the flag of the Adrestian Empire flying in the distance. They’re almost in the same positions they were five years ago, Claude notes with great irony. The Alliance's Army is hiding in the trees while flanking the Imperial Army, which has already seized the ballistas in the middle. The Kingdom's army has a bridge to cross, but they can already hear the thundering feet of their enemy.

He grips Ayla’s reigns, Failnaught slung to his bow. He motions for his battalion, the one he inherited from his grandfather, to follow him in the air. Dimitri watches him, stationed on the ground. There are other Wyvern Riders and Pegasus Knights that follow him into the air, their battalions following. They need to take care of that ballistas quickly or any aerial advantage they have will be moot. Dimitri knows that; he’s already requested that Felix and Sylvain target the ballistas first as the rest focus on the Imperial Army.

Claude sighs, taking in the numbers of the Imperial Army. Shamir’s spies noted that they were far greater than any force that they could muster, which was not helpful or encouraging. The last reports said that they were more than 8 thousand. Holst was able to send a quarter of his troops, which helped them get above 5 thousand, but barely. Count Gloucester sent some men as well, ones that weren’t sent to Fodlan’s Locket, which raised their numbers. It was still intimidating to look at. The numbers for the Imperial Army spelled a disadvantage for their forces.

Although Lysithea and Dimitri were strong enough to take on a small army by themselves. One advantage they did have was that they had elite soldiers, most of them trained by Garreg Mach Monastery themselves. He was very glad that his grandfather convinced him to attend the Officer’s Academy. The connections he made there would most likely save his life today.

He nocks an arrow in Failnaught, ready to fire at a moment’s notice. He can’t see Edelgard completely, but he sees a small red dress on the field, meaning that she’s actually here. That was a bit of surprise, Edelgard could have had the entire Imperial Army wipe them out without even getting her boots dirty.

He can see the fog set in, which isn’t great. There must be mages on the field casting it. On one hand, the archers on the ballistas can’t see them in the air, but on the other hand, they can’t see their enemies clearly. They’ll have to go in and find the mages casting the dark magic.

Their first focus will be removing the enemy’s battalions of pegasus knights and wyvern riders. The fact they have Failnaught in the air will help. “Some class reunion,” Claude mutters to himself. Ayla snorts in disbelief. The fog barely covers the ballistas, and he urges Ayla forward, an axe slung to her saddle. At the very least, they can cross the bridge. He has a whistle tied to his neck so he can give signals to those in the air and on the ground. But this battle, it’s going to be chaos.

He sees the first wave of infantry approaching so he gives off two quick whistle blasts to let those on the ground know they’re coming and to be ready for them. He hears those whistle blasts echoed by his battalion, ensuring that they are heard everywhere. They need to keep an eye on the ground to make sure that when the cavalry arrives that they are ready for them.

He gives a long whistle blast to let the archers in the air, preparing an arrow strike at the incoming infantrymen. The very least they could do is whittle down the infantry while out of range of the ballistas, they can’t get very close without being worried that the ballistas will shoot them out of the air.

He may have a few of them dismount to provide coverage on the ground with Ashe, Ignatz, and Bernadetta. Pegasus knights are too fragile to stay in the air with the ballistas still in range. The Dark Fliers can stay in the air, firing magic down below, but eventually, they’re going to have to dismount. They can’t do long-range when everyone is in close quarters while fighting.

Then he sees the first battalion of enemy pegasus knights in the air, fast approaching. He readies Failnaught and strikes the first one out of the sky, aiming for the enemy’s torso. He’d prefer not to kill the pegasi but if he’s desperate enough, he will. Ayla rears up, allowing him a full view of the approaching battalion of pegasus knights. Failnaught is ready.

Ayla ducks a pegasus knight’s lance as he shoots them down, hearing them scream as they fall. He winces, he never really got used to that, hearing the enemy’s death cry. But he must continue. This is war, and this is what he signed up for. They make quick work of the pegasus knight, using their axes to smash lances and carve up wings.

Claude glances down, noting that they’ve done the same easily with the first wave of infantrymen, but then he notices wave after wave of men emerging from the fog. Somehow ten thousand men looked bigger than imagined. Another sharp whistle forces him to look up where at least three battalions of pegasus knights and wyvern knights are approaching. He readies Failnaught, gripping multiple arrows in his hand. He swallows, this is going to be a long day. 

* * *

(31st Day of Great Tree Moon, 1186)

Dimitri’s grip on his lance has almost gone slick with blood. He’s killed far too many people to keep count of, and yet they keep coming. Sylvain and Felix were able to seize the ballistas allowing for Claude to provide proper air support, but the Imperial Army’s numbers seem too great. He keeps going, focusing on cutting down as many people as he can. His people are relying on him, his father is waiting for him. He cannot leave him alone in the world.

He dodges an axe strike, thrusting the lance up into his opponent’s chest, hearing them gurgle with blood. He’s glad that Felix made him tie up his hair a long time ago or it would be matted with blood at this point.

He watches Ayla glide to the ground, her left-wing tucked to her side, Claude’s yellow cape blowing in the wind. “Mercedes!” Dimitri yells, calling to her. He points at Ayla, Claude’s white wyvern, limping as Claude uses an axe to beat off any enemies from her. They rush towards them as Dimitri leaves his second in command of the battalion to charge forward, pushing their enemies back.

Dimitri’s mind goes blank as he cuts down the Imperial Army, allowing for Mercedes to approach Ayla with a Heal spell. Claude drops the axe and breaks the arrow lodged into her wing with a dagger; Ayla snarls but allows her rider to remove the arrow with ease as it had passed through her wing with the shaft still remaining in her body. He pulls out the arrow through the shaft, leaving a hole in Ayla’s wing. She won’t be able to fly very well with it there.

Mercedes easily closes the gaping wound with her Heal spell as Dimitri’s battalion surrounds them, defending them. Claude watches her all the while. When the wound looks partially closed, still red with blood, Claude stops her. “That’s good enough Mercedes, thank you.”

He looks at Ayla, pressing his forehead against hers. “You’re done here, go back to the bridge,” he orders Ayla quietly. She snarls in protest. “You know what to do,” he murmurs. She pushes her forehead against his and looks at Dimitri. For a moment, their eyes meet and Dimitri nods.

“I’ll take care of him,” he promises. Claude unlatches his quiver of arrows, slinging it behind his back. Ayla takes one last look at him and leaps into the air, flying away.

“How many men does the Imperial Army have?” Claude asks, nocking an arrow for Failnaught. Dimitri shrugs. It has been hours since combat started and there seems to be no end in sight yet. They’ve slowly made their way to the main force of the Imperial Army, but with Claude out of the air, there’s no way to tell how many of the Empire’s forces remain. They’ve passed the hill where the ballistas were, but the fog remains.

A quarter-hour passes and he and Claude work in tandem as Claude strikes their enemies from a distance while Dimitri protects him with his lance. Mercedes retreats to the back with her battalion, focusing on healing any soldiers with minor wounds. When this battle is over and if the fog clears, perhaps they can take the time to heal those whose wounds are deep.

“Dimitri,” Claude murmurs, looking up to the sky. The blasted fog is finally clearing and they can see where they are. They’ve clearly passed the ballistas and are near the Empire’s headquarters. He can see Edelgard’s red dress in the distance, clearly standing out from the rest. But they’ve got a problem, they’re wildly outnumbered and their forces are separated from one another. If the Empire makes a concentrated push, they can cut through their forces, surrounding them.

The fog made it hard to see where their enemies and their allies were.

A horn rallies in the distance. “If that’s reinforcements for the Empire, we are fucked.” Claude remarks, striking enemy after enemy down. Dimitri’s impressed by the number of arrows that Claude keeps in his quiver. He’s been using Failnaught this entire time with great success.

The standard of the Crest of Cichol is in the distance. Dimitri glances at Claude in confusion. Seteth was there, but he did not have his own standard, let alone his own battalion. Who could that be?

A new army enters the battlefield, a wave of cavalry mowing down the Imperial Army on the left-hand side, coming from Varley territory. They are flanked by infantrymen, clearly focused on the Imperial Army. Whoever these people were, the Imperial Army was not their ally. Claude shrugs, firing arrow after arrow. Dimitri looks to where he saw Edelgard last but she’s gone, the red dress has disappeared in the distance.

This new army has changed the tide of the battle and now the Imperial Army has sounded a retreat, unable to match the energy of the new forces. He sees their leader, a man dressed in red and a blue cloak on top of a mare.

He sees them and approaches, urging his mount towards them. While they may have helped them defeat the Imperial Army, Dimitri readies his lance in case they decide to attack, at the very least Cornelia has taught him you cannot trust everybody.

When the man dismounts from his steed, he pulls off his helmet, revealing flowing orange hair.

“Ferdinand von Aegir at your service.” Ferdinand beams at them and bows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ferdinand lives! Did you really think I was going to kill him off during the time skip? Ferdinand grew on me slowly but surely. I thought he was annoying in pre-time skip but post time skip, I mostly felt bad for him because he clearly worked hard to regain his position in Edelgard's Black Eagle Strike Force (Team, Edelgard, you were so close to B.E.S.T.)
> 
> The Red Queen makes their appearance. I wonder who they are? Lol. I named them the Red Queen because despite how much I hate Philippa Gregory and the damage she's caused to Tudor Fiction, I can admire her creating a series about the female figures in the War of the Roses. But she sucks as a historical fiction writer. Margaret Beaufort is a badass and deserves more respect other than being a religious fanatic overbearing mother in law as she's so often portrayed in history and fiction. 
> 
> Someone sent a gift to Lord Acheron but he doesn't get to enjoy it. Shame that he turned on the Alliance. I really love Claude's dialogue with Acheron I had to include it in the chapter. Like, I know they made Claude a lot less ambiguously grey but his dialogue with Acheron shows how dark he could be. Like damn, burning down someone's home? That's certainly not something Dimitri or Edelgard would consider. 
> 
> I spent a lot of time trying to figure out the army sizes at Gronder. The game certainly doesn't give you any concrete figures. So the theory is that Fodlan is about 2/3 the size of Europe. But they don't seem to indicate the population size. I assume that the Empire has more men, they have more food, more money etc. But two is bigger than one, right? However, the Kingdom has a third of its nobles siding with the Faerghus Dukedom and they need men stationed at Fhirdiad so Cornelia can't attack it as well as Gautier because of Sreng. Claude's supplied most of his men from the Alliance except those who sided with Gloucester and Acheron as well as the Goneril's men at Fodlan's Locket. This is why Ferdinand's fresh troops and calvary change the tide of the battle. It was at a stalemate before but the new soldiers help boost their army. 
> 
> So there we have it, Dimitri killed his uncle after he tried killing King Lambert. Was he TWSiTD or under Cornelia's influence? I'm honestly not sure. So while Dimitri isn't completely feral like in canon, he does have his moments of ferocity. Most of it was destroying the Black Eagles' classroom and Hubert's room, killing his uncle, and finally throwing that spear at Hubert.
> 
> As always comments and/or critiques are always appreciated. Let me know what you think of the latest chapter!


	25. Part III Chapter VII

* * *

(31st Day of Lone Moon, 1186)

Claude tackles Ferinand to the ground with a loud thud. He ignores the fact that he’s covered in blood, the sight of seeing Ferdinand alive and well, it’s more than a welcome sight. “It’s good to see you too, Claude.” Ferdinand greets friendly, sitting up with the Alliance leader in his lap. The former heir to the Empire looks up at Dimitri, smiling. “Dimitri,” Ferdinand nods warmly. 

Dimitri pulls Claude off Ferdinand and then Ferdinand off the floor, dusting him off. “Ferdinand,” he says kindly, shaking his hand. “How?” The last they heard of Ferdinand was that he was in Enbarr and then nothing else. Of course, that as the norm, the Empire kept a tight grip on any information flowing out, especially on Enbarr. 

“It’s a long story,” Ferdinand says simply. “Perhaps at a different time?” He suggests, looking around, his eyes on the horizon. “I assume we won’t pursue the Emperor.” Ferdinand guesses, bringing over his mare. He keeps his long hair unbound as it was tucked underneath his helmet. 

Claude shakes his head. “There would be too much risk.” He looks back at the retreating Imperial banners. He was surprised by the fact the Imperial Army was willing to retreat. They had fought to the last man at the Great Bridge of Myrddin, he expected no less on Gronder Field. “We should focus on getting people medical attention.” Claude proposes. There might be a lot of people injured here but if they can get them healed in time, they might be able to salvage part of their army.

Their battle at Gronder was a stalemate, almost edging into a victory for them as Edelgard fled from the field. If they could recover a portion of their army, it could turn into an outright victory for them. If they pursued, they could get trapped in the Empire without a supply line. 

“Once healed, we should pull back to the bridge,” he says to Dimitri. He doesn’t like being out here in the open, if the Empire decides to come back they’ll be sitting ducks. Besides, Ayla is waiting for him there. If he doesn’t come back, she’ll fly back to Almyra to his parents with his letter for them. Getting back to the bridge and safely behind their lines with the remains of their army is priority number one. They halted the Imperial Army’s march but they cannot continue further into the Empire. 

Dimitri nods but his eyes are still faraway in the distance, looking for something, or someone. 

Mercedes has already gone straight to work, her battalion healing soldiers one by one. They’re hurting right now but hopefully the numbers will be in their favor when the night falls. They have to regroup and ideally set up camp back where they came from. Claude doubts anyone would want to camp on grounds where their comrades died.

Claude runs a hand through his hair. “Did you see Edelgard?” In the air, he had seen a red dress deep in the Imperial Army but he never actually saw her as they broke the lines. He asks Dimitri quietly, who shakes his head.

“Only in the distance,” Dimitri responds despondently. Claude has a feeling that he knows who Dimitri was looking for. No one talks about Edelgard with Dimitri, it’s probably not a good idea in general. 

“Edelgard?” Ferdinand’s ears perk up. “She’s alive? After all these years?” He asks curiously. Dimitri flinches and clenches his fists. Ferdinand was most likely a victim of the Empire’s planning. He did not know of the plot to destroy the Church of Seiros. Dimitri can’t blame him.

Ferdinand shakes his head. “I can’t believe she’s been alive for so long.” Ferdinand says distantly. “I haven’t seen her since we were nine.” He runs his hands through his mare’s braid as it is tinged with blood. Ferdinand’s army came at the right time, turning the tide of the battle. He probably doesn’t even realize how screwed they were before he showed up.

“What.” Claude stares at Ferdinand. “You knew her when you were young?” Claude says, his voice strangled. Dimitri stares at Ferdinand as well, surprised. Ferdinand must have grown up in Enbarr but they never considered this. 

Ferdinand blinks and nods slowly. “We met when she was six, Hubert was already by her side, but we shared some interests together when we were in Enbarr. I thought she had died during the Insurrection,” he murmurs, swallowing quietly. His hands hide behind his back. “I missed her.”

“Ferdinand, do you know who the Emperor is?” Dimitri asks, his voice strangled, he stares at Ferdinand shakily.

Ferdinand shakes his head. “I figured it was someone Lord Arundel was able to prop up,” he answers back wryly. “They didn’t like each other, my father and Lord Arundel. Their relationship was worse after the Insurrection.” he says slowly. “I always assumed that it was because Edelgard, who was Lord Arundel’s niece, died during it.”

Claude and Dimitri look at each other. Ferdinand is not up to date on the current events in Fodlan, which makes sense if he’s been traveling around Fodlan, wreaking havoc on the Empire. Claude clears his throat. “Edelgard is the Emperor,” Claude clarifies for him. “And she was also El….at the academy.”

“Oh.” Ferdinand blinks, surprised. “What?” He asks, confusedly, he runs a hand through his hair. “She was El?” 

He mutters, his nose scrunches at the thought. It was still hard to believe after all this time that El was from the Empire and that she was now the Emperor of Adrestia. And that she was trying to kill them. “All this time?” He looks at Dimitri surprised, who nods. “What happened?”

“We were hoping you could fill in the details,” Claude responds back. There were a thousand questions racing through his head. He shakes his head. “Let’s talk about this at the Bridge of Myrddin,” he proposes quickly. “We can sit down and compare notes there.”

Ferdinand nods, agreeing, “We are far too exposed for my liking.” He gets back up onto his mare. “I will tell my men to help with the transportation of the injured. Claude, Dimitri, it is good to see you again.” He rides off back to his battalion of men. 

* * *

(1st Day of Harpstring Moon, 1186)

Caspar had heard the rumors but he didn’t actually think they were true. He tackles Ferdinand at the bridge with Bernadetta and Linhardt not far behind. They don’t tackle Ferdinand like he does but their expressions are bright and delighted to see their former house leader. They had not seen him since their mission in the tombs. 

“How?” Caspar asks, after he pulls Ferdinand back off the ground. To his disappointment, it seems that Ferdinand grew a little, not as much as Caspar but he’s still taller than him. “How are you here?”

Ferdinand was meeting with Claude and Dimitri all day, most likely telling him how he survived Enbarr and Edelgard’s ascension as Emperor but Caspar wanted to hear it from the man himself. 

“It is a long story,” Ferdinand says with a slight laugh. “Shall we sit down?” He guides them to sit down at one of the empty benches, all of them watching him eagerly. He looks very much the same but his hair is longer and flowing. It actually suits him. He looks happier and lighter than he was at the academy. 

His fingers trace the wooden table. “I was hoping to see you in Enbarr,” he confesses slowly. Bernadetta stiffens in guilt, looking down. “It is fine!” He says with a laugh. “But it would have been nice to see friendly faces there.”

“So what happened?” Caspar asks quickly, “after Hubert...took you.” The last time any of them had seen him was that mission in the Holy Tomb, all those years ago. They thought he had been lost in the depths of the Empire.

“I was taken to Enbarr,” Ferdinand says softly, his eyes far away. “My father told me that it was the Emperor’s dearest wish to see Fodlan united underneath the Adrestian banners. I was hoping that with your support I could see the war ended but that never happened.” Bernadetta reaches out a hand, grasping his own comfortingly. She smiles gently at him, squeezing it. 

“Something was going on,” Ferdinand informs them sadly. He shakes his head. “I think there was a conflict going on in the background, do any of you remember a Lord Volkhard von Arundel?” He looks at them, his gaze searching for any recognition in their eyes. 

“Vaguely,” Linhardt answers, “He was one of the Seven, was he not?” Caspar tilts his head questioningly. The only von Arundel he knew had been El and she turned out not to be an von Arundel in the end.

“He was,” Ferdinand nods. “He was close to Emperor Ionius in the end.” Ferdinand traces a finger on the wooden table. 

“So what happened?” Caspar blurts out, impatiently. “How did you end up here and how come you’re not the Emperor?” Ferdinand jolts at the sudden increase in volume. “Sorry.” Caspar apologizes, he was working on being more quiet. Some of the merchants tended to be a little jumpy and didn’t appreciate him shouting. It was a work in progress. 

Ferdinand nods, understandingly. “About two years ago, the Emperor fell ill. I thought we would prepare for my coronation. The Emperor had been sick for a very long time. Instead, Hubert told me to go to Aegir. He insisted on it, actually,” he says, frowning. 

“A few days later, a letter was smuggled to me. My father had been arrested and that men from Enbarr were on their way to capture me.” He shakes his head. “I took the men loyal to Aegir and fled the territory, we’ve been on the run ever since.” He says finally.

“That can’t be it.” Linhardt says, displeased. “You didn’t know that El was Edelgard, or that she was still alive?” That’s right, unlike them, Ferdinand knew what Edelgard had looked like before she disappeared to Faerghus. He would have known that she was alive if he had seen her in Enbarr. 

Ferdinand shakes his head. “I had no idea,” he answers softly. “I knew Edelgard when we were young. We used to go to the opera together,” he muses, smiling. More seriously, he says, “I would have stepped down as the Emperor’s heir immediately if I knew she was alive.” His hands clench under his gloves, forming fists on the table.

“Enbarr is a big city,” Bernadetta offers, piping up. “Maybe they kept her in hiding? It would have been a big deal in Enbarr that the Emperor’s heir was still alive after everyone thought they were all dead.” Emperor Ionius’s heirs had all died when Bernadetta was 12. All 11 of them were gone, having died slowly over the years; it was seen as a tragedy as the number of children Ionius sired was an impressive feat, especially with so many of them bearing the Crest of Seiros. They called it the Curse of the Hresvelg line. 

“But why would they do that?” Linhardt challenges, Bernadetta freezes at Linhardt’s sudden harsh tone. Linhardt pinches the bridge of his nose. “Like you said, it’s a pretty big deal- one of the Emperor’s heirs turns out to be alive after five years? Especially since it’s the one that was kidnapped to Faerhgus? That’s enough to start a war.” But that wasn’t the grounds on which the war was started. Dimitri’s lance throw started the war even though the Imperial Army was already on their way to attack the monastery. 

‘Why would you say that she was kidnapped?” Caspar asks curiously. El had never made it known to any of them that she was secretly Edelgard- the Emperor’s surviving heir. She seemed happy by Dimitri’s side.

Linhardt shrugs, looking at Ferdinand. “All the Emperor’s children were close, right? They would have never left each other if they had to.” Ferdinand nods, agreeingly. It was nice having Ferdinand here. None of them were close to the royal children but Ferdinand seemed intimately acquainted with all eleven of them. Eleven children, Caspar mused, all gone and died. How did that happen?

“So Hubert got you out?” Bernadetta says, frowning. Caspar resists the urge to growl at Hubert’s name. He never could forgive Hubert for betraying them at the Holy Tomb. How could he have been working with people like Solon and Kronya?

Ferdinand nods. “I saw Hubert sparingly over the years, I never did get many answers out of that man.” He informs them, his brows knitted together. He sighs, “Unfortunately, the information I know about Edelgard’s rise is very little. Wherever she was, she was hidden from me.”

“I wonder what happened to her,” Bernadetta says quietly. All three of them look at her and she squeaks. “Her hair used to be brown, right? Now it’s almost like a silver-white,” her eyes roam around, catching on Lysithea who is eating lunch with Cyril. “Like Lysithea.” She says weakly.

“Perhaps.” Ferdinand’s eyes follow hers. “Now, tell me what you three have been up to?” He asks gleefully. “You must imagine my surprise when I heard that all three of you absconded from your homes, leaving your noble titles behind.” He says proudly.

“Well, Linhardt and I left together.” Caspar supplies triumphantly. He was very proud of his success over convincing Linhardt to follow him out of Garreg Mach Monastery. “We were acting as mercenaries for a couple of years before we ran into Bernadetta, Raphael, and Ignatz.” Now that had surprised him, seeing Bernadetta be in public with Raphael and Ignatz. She had hidden in her room for so long, he had expected her to return to Varley. 

“I went with Raphael and Ignatz,” Bernadetta says quickly. “We-um, started this merchant protection band? It’s been pretty successful,” she says pridefully. They had built a nice thing up and it only got bigger with the addition of Caspar and Linhardt. They gained a great healer and Caspar was another physical fighter they could use especially since he was faster than Raphael.

Ferdinand grins. “Tell me everything.” They sit down there all afternoon, exchanging tales. They had traveled all across the Kingdom and the Alliance whereas Ferdinand roamed around the Empire, wreaking as much havoc as he could, gathering those who opposed the war under his banners. He had heard of the impending Battle of Gronder and tried to make it there as fast as possible, catching them near the end of the battle. He had turned the tide there and now they could continue their march into the Empire.

* * *

(2nd Day of Harpstring Moon, 1186)

“Hey Nardel,” Claude greets, friendly to the large man that Linhard was currently healing. The man had incurred a deep wound at the Battle of Gronder and it was a wonder that he was still alive. Linhardt was doing his very best but it seemed like Caspar, Nardel didn’t have a single bone of common sense in his body. “Are you sure you should be standing up like that?”

“No, he shouldn’t.” Linhardt says pointedly. He’s given up on trying to make the man sit down. It would be a waste of effort. Nardel is built like a tree trunk with thighs and biceps to match. If he wanted to, he could probably snap Linhardt like a twig. All of Nardel’s moving has re-opened the wound that he has tried very diligently to keep closed.

Claude raises an eyebrow and his retainer sighs, sitting back down. “I don’t get what the big fuss is, I’ve had worse wounds from scarier looking people in-” Claude looks at him sharply and he shuts his mouth. “All I’m saying is that girl I fought got off way too lightly. I look forward to meeting her in battle again.” He says with a grin.

Claude lounges in a chair. “And yeah? Who were you fighting? You’ve never let anyone get the jump on you like this,” he says with a big grin. He crosses his legs, waiting for Nardel’s treatment to finish.

“Well, the first one would be your father,” Nardel retorts, “And the second would be your mother. So what happened to you?” He taunts Claude, his voice booming loudly.

Linhardt looks up. Claude’s background was enshrined in mystery. He bore the Crest of Riegan but his mother, Tiana von Riegan, had disappeared into the night and Claude’s father was never known. “This girl was small but she packed a punch.” He sniffs, “But she only caught me off guard because I was fighting another person. She was quick and had a lot of braids, fought with a sword.” He describes, waving his hand around.

Linhardt’s hand stills. “Did she have tattoos?” He asks quietly. “And purplish hair?” His heart stops as he stares Nardel down.

Nardel frowns, “Yeah- how’d you know? She was a menace, cutting my men down left and right,” he answers. Linhardt could picture Petra now, as fierce as she was in battle at the monastery.

Linhardt releases the heal spell and makes a fist in Nardel’s tunic. Not that it means much to Nardel, he’s like a mosquito compared to him. “What happened to the first girl, the one you were fighting?” He asks desperately, his voice going harsh. It could only be Petra and if he hurt Petra, there was no telling what Linhardt would do.

Claude lays a hand on Linhardt’s elbow, watching them both but saying nothing. Nardel may have been Claude’s retainer but it would not protect him from Linhardt, or the others.

Nardel watches him. “Not sure, got a little distracted when the other one attacked me. Pretty sure she got away.” Linhardt releases Nardel’s shirt, his breathing going back to normal. Petra was smart and she was fast. She wouldn’t die on the fields of Gronder, not like that. She wanted to go home. “Spiteful little thing,” he answers. “Broke my axe and cut me almost in half. She had this weird crown thing on her head.”

“What?” Claude croaks out, staring at him. His hands are fisted in his gloves as he goes pale. 

Nardel nods, “Yeah, she had this crown that looked like horns, wore a red dress. Her hair was white too, like that little Lysithea girl you tell me to avoid.” He shakes his head. “A lot stronger than she looks, that’s for sure. A menace on the battlefield.”

* * *

(3rd Day of Harpstring Moon, 1186)

Dimitri holds a letter crumpled in his fist. His eyes are closed, his hands covering his face. Mercedes isn’t sure how to comfort him, they were sharing a meal together and then he received that letter and he hasn’t said a word since. His breathing is harsh and heavy but controlled. He hasn’t moved in ten minutes and it’s beginning to worry Mercedes.

“Dimitri?” She asks gently, placing a small hand on his shoulder. “Is everything alright?” She watches him flinch underneath her touch and she retracts her hand hesitantly. El had always been touching Dimitri, it was hard to gauge what was acceptable with him and what wasn’t. 

He hands the letter over to her wordlessly, his hands still covering his face. It has small and cramped writing; it’s from Lord Rodrigue, the King’s right hand man. It’s quickly written note about Cornelia and Arianrhod, calling for the surrender of King Lambert and the Kingdom of Faerghus. She wants them to surrender to the Faerghus Dukedom or they will attack Fhirdiad at month’s end. 

Mercedes presses a hand to her mouth, silently, watching Dimitri. He’s always been conflicted about his father and his role in the war. Ever since Arianrhod fell to the Empire, Dimitri has wavered between returning to Faerghus or continuing their assault on the Empire. The King wants him to be here but Dimitri wants to be with him. But now, it seems that he must make a choice. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Dimitri says quietly, his voice muffled by his hands. “I cannot abandon my father but they need me here.” After the Battle of Gronder, they’re still healing everyone who survived. There were many with major injuries and Mercedes spends every day in the hospital wing treating people until she falls over. 

But it’s worth it. The soldiers are full of thanks and gratitude for their medical support and it bolsters morale on their side, seeing the crown prince’s fiancee healing on the front lines. 

But they need to continue their march. The Imperial Army is on the run and is regrouping at Fort Merceus. It’s their final obstacle until Enbarr. They are so close. But if the Kingdom falls, then they have no chance at winning this war. Claude will surely retreat as the Alliance borders have been secured. And where would that leave Dimitri? A prince without a kingdom. 

“Bring this up to Claude and Ferdinand,” Mercedes heeds urgently. She knows Ferdinand will feel sympathy. Additionally, he brought many men with him that have been battle-tested as they traveled around the Adrestian Empire, evading capture. He did not bring many supplies but trade has been bolstered in the Alliance as the tide of the war shifts in their favor. “They will understand, I know it.”

She had lunch with Ferdinand and the others, exchanging tales of their travels across Fodlan. In particular, Ferdinand has been very busy in the Empire. He disrupts supply lines when he can and promotes insubordination and insurgency for those who oppose the escalation of this war. He doesn’t know what happened to Duke Aegir. Last word was that he was placed under house arrest but that was proven false months ago. 

It seemed that many of the commoners opposed this war, seeing it as a disruption of their everyday life. Ferdinand had lived amongst the commoners, camouflaging himself and his men amongst them to survive. 

She clutches his hand, feeling the many rough calluses underneath. “It will be worth it Dimitri, just tell them about the news and you can figure out the next steps.” 

* * *

(7th Day of Harpstring Moon, 1186)

“We’re pulling the men from Fodlan’s Locket,” Claude announces to the four of them- Lorenz, Marianne, Hilda, and Lysithea. With the Alliance firmly united underneath his leadership, the five of them are acting as the Great Five Lords, serving as the representatives of their respective families. Hilda chokes on her food and Marianne pats her back comfortingly.

“Claude!” Lorenz protests, “You can’t be serious. We cannot leave Fodlan’s Locket unprotected. You risk the Almyrans invading-” Claude cuts him off crisply.

“I have a hunch, okay Lorenz? Just trust me.” Claude smiles, grimly. He knows what he’s risking by leaving Fodlan’s Locket unmanned. Fodlan’s Locket has never been breached since it was built, Claude risks being the first Alliance leader where it is. “When was the last time the Almyrans attacked the border? Hilda?” 

Hilda gasps for air as she glares at Claude from beneath her bangs. This is potentially an order that Holst will not be listening to, with good reason. “It’s been over a year,” Marianne hedges a guess. “Right?” She looks at Hilda. The Almyrans have not attacked for a while, which is good. It gives Holst and his men a break as well as an opportunity to fortify the bases. But it also increases their nerves as tension rises for they do not know when the Almyrans will attack. 

Claude nods with Hilda. “It’s been ages since Almyra attacked Fodlan’s Locket. We just need one month, Hilda, that’s all I’m asking for.” The threat of Cornelia’s forces to the Kingdom of Faerghus had spread across their army. They could not defeat the Empire if the Kingdom fell but they could not march further on without Dimitri’s forces. They were at least a third of their army and they needed them to march on Fort Merceus. 

Fort Merceus was the seat of House Bergliez and was referred to as the Old General. It was also known to be impenetrable and it was the last stronghold of the Empire before the capital. If Fort Merceus fell, they could march on Enbarr with ease.

“Holst isn’t going to like this,” Hilda warns Claude. Holst deferred a lot of the decision making to Claude, despite almost being his equal in the Alliance hierarchy. In fact, before Claude emerged as the heir almost seven years ago, it was believed that Holst would inherit the former Duke Riegan’s position as leader of the Alliance. A position he didn’t want but nonetheless, he was beloved in the Alliance. 

Claude shakes his head. “I know it’s a lot to ask for but we can’t let the Kingdom fall, not if we want to win this war. Dimitri is leaving whether we like it or not and he’s going to be taking his forces with him. That includes Ingrid, Felix, Sylvain and many more.” He lists off several important generals of their army. Holst has about three-quarters of the men he usually has, half of them being Count Gloucester’s men. “It will be like a week, maybe two tops.” He pleads with Hilda.

Holst will disagree on principle but a letter from Hilda will go a long way with her older brother. “We have to head back to Garreg Mach to regroup anyways.” Claude argues. “We do the same thing. They meet us at the Great Bridge of Myrddin and we move forward onto Fort Merceus.”

“We can’t leave Fodlan’s Locket completely defenseless,” Lorenz argues passionately. “It’s not just a defense against the Almyrans, Claude. It’s a border patrol as well. Leave Holst at Fodlan’s Locket and we’ll leave a third of the men that are already there under my father and General Holst’s command.” Lorenz suggests. “We can spare that many, correct?”

Claude runs a hand through his thick hair. “I’ll see if I can talk Dimitri into leaving some of his men here,” he rationalizes. “Fhirdiad does have at least two thousand men there. I don’t know the numbers of the men stationed at Arianrhod but we can see what information Shamir digs up there. But the decision is made, alright? We pull some men from Fodlan’s Locket, we pull back to Garreg Mach to re-establish the supply lines, and we march on Fort Merceus near the end of the month.”

“Then what happens next?” Lysithea interrupts, having been uncharacteristically silent this entire meeting. Her parents reluctantly sided with the Alliance after seeing victory after victory for them. She was pleased, finally at least they were making a stand. 

They had sent some men over, not many but skilled in magic. Not as skilled as her, of course, but there were very few who were in Fodlan. “We wait at Fort Merceus for Dimitri to catch up?” She asks quickly. “We shouldn’t allow the Imperial Army to regroup, we should be pushing forward.” She says with a frown. 

“We’ll see what happens next, Lysithea,” Claude responds. There may be a chance that Dimitri falls at Fhirdiad and the Kingdom falls. If that happens, the Alliance will have no choice but to close its borders and defenses against the Empire. But it’s a risk they have to take. He’ll have to trust in Dimitri.

* * *

(12th Day of Harpstring Moon, 1186)

They’re back at Garreg Mach again. It’s kind of annoying, having to travel so much between the borders but Dimitri needs to head to Fhirdiad and Claude wants to allow the troops to regroup before they attack Fort Merceus. The ebb and flow of it all is throwing off his rhythm. But Claude wants to establish the supply line to Gronder Field before they march on Fort Merceus. In this time, the teams become obviously clear about who will be going with Claude and who will be going with Dimitri.

Caspar’s going with Claude, he’s not the most strategically minded but he grew up in Fort Merceus. He really didn’t think that it was weird that he grew up in what is essentially a military base, but Hilda said that it explained so much about him. 

They’ll have to say goodbye to their Kingdom comrades but also Mercedes, Catherine, Gilbert, and Shamir. Claude will take a bulk of their forces to Fort Merceus but Dimitri intends to gather forces from Eastern Faerghus before he arrives at Fhirdiad. Margrave Gautier has already written to him promising forces from the border with Sreng. He won’t leave it completely undefended, but he understands that if the Kingdom falls, his house won’t have a future. 

It’s a decision that Dimitri must make, will he attack Arianrhod, known as the Silver Maiden? Or should they meet on the Talitean Fields? He doesn’t envy Dimitri for that decision. Although, as Linhardt has pointed out to him, that they’re about to attack his childhood home, also known as impregnable. A lot of places in Fodlan are thought to be impregnable. 

He spends a lot of time with Hilda and Lorenz, going over the base as much as possible. Where the possible weak gates are, where the turrets and ballistae may be centered. It’s a lot of work, especially since Caspar never really paid attention very much to his home. It was his home. He never had to. Unfortunately, Linhardt isn’t much of a help either, despite spending time with him at Fort Merceus. He spent most of his time in the library, as barren and sparse as it was.

Eventually, they figure out the general layout of the fort by having Caspar describe his morning routine when he was there. Thankfully, Caspar spent a lot of time running around so he remembers some details. It’s the best they can do especially since the defenses around Fort Merceus will be buffed up a ton. 

Linhardt told him and the others that Petra and Edelgard were on the field; Caspar hadn’t seen them- there was a particularly troublesome cavalier that he had to take care of. Even after his horse went down, the soldier kept on fighting. When he said that Nardel almost killed Petra, Caspar almost went after him.

They might have been on opposite sides of the war, but Petra was a Black Eagle and his friend. She was only on the side of the Empire because they had threatened her country as she lamented over five years ago. Petra loved Brigid and she wanted to make it an equal to the Empire. She deserved the chance to do so.

He sees Annette pacing in circles. They’ve just arrived at Garreg Mach and Dimitri’s group should be leaving soon. 

“Hey Annette,” Caspar greets, friendly. She’s been stressed out this entire time when Dominic defected to the Faerghus Dukedom. He can’t blame her, his father is the general on the western side of Fodlan. He doesn’t want to even think about seeing him or his brother on the field.

“Caspar!” Annette says, warmly. Annette’s always been nice to him even when he’s loud. She continues pacing as Caspar watches her.

“Everything alright?” Caspar asks, curiously. Annette’s friendly but at this point, she’s distracted by something. 

Annette pauses and wrings her hands into her dress, tightening it. “Nothing- just I’m worried about seeing my uncle,” she confesses softly. “He’s never been much of a fighter, he didn’t even attend the Officer’s Academy but I’m worried that if I see at Arianrhod, I’ll lose my nerve.”

Caspar nods, understandingly. He’s gotten lucky. He hasn’t seen his brother anywhere on the battlefield and he barely recognized Randolph when he ran into him here, but he’s never hesitated against his opponent. He guides Annette to sit down at a bench. He just had another training session with Dedue; he’s very strong and sturdy, which is good practice for Caspar because he needs someone who can take the force of his blows. 

“He didn’t attend the Officer’s Academy?” Caspar asks curiously. He was lucky that he was able to- his father secured him a position after he passed his exams and Caspar hasn’t looked back ever since. 

Annette shakes her head. “It’s not common for the Dominics to attend the Officer’s Academy. He didn’t even want me attending in the first place.” Annette tucks her hands under her knees, drawing them up to her chest. “But my teachers at the Sorcerer’s Academy all wrote recommendation letters for me and I pleaded with him for days. He finally agreed for me to attend.” 

She explains, “He didn’t like me looking for my father…and he also didn’t feel that it was right for me to attend. That I should focus on getting married instead.” Caspar stiffens, he’s heard this talk before. From Bernadetta’s mouth, about her father and the way he used to treat her. Even Linhardt wanted to set his bed on fire after hearing about him from Bernadetta. 

Her lip trembles a little. “I love him, my uncle but I hate how my crest is the only thing that matters about me. Not my skills or my strength but something that I was born with and have no control over. I really envy you Caspar sometimes. You don’t need to worry about things like this.”

Caspar leans against her, his shoulder pressing against hers. Perhaps the lack of his crest made his life simpler. He did not need to worry about his inheritance. His brother had been born first and he would inherit his father’s title. 

“House Bergliez created its title on military might,” Caspar echoes his father’s words. “We were the first house in the Empire to do so.” He had always focused on his physical strength because that’s what was important to his house. “Crests don’t define you Annette. You’d be a great person with or without your crest and I’d be your friend anyways.”

She sniffs, leaning her head on his shoulder and murmurs. “Thanks Caspar.”

* * *

(19th Day of Harpstring Moon, 1186)

Ingrid runs at Glenn, almost throwing herself into his arms. Glenn holds her and spins her up in the air, embracing her tightly. Felix could throw up but then again, he almost threw up when he heard the news about his older brother and King Lambert. 

They almost lost Glenn over ten years ago and the thought of losing him again did not make things better. When King Lambert arrives, his cane clinking against the ground heavily, they kneel, keeping their heads down. They’ve just arrived in Fhirdiad after spending a couple of days at Garreg Mach. They could not leave Fhirdiad undefended against the Empire. Margrave Gautier has already sent half of his men to Fhirdiad and now they wait for Sylvain’s command. 

In the few months they’ve been gone, King Lambert has aged years, leaning against his cane. His father has fared no better. “Rise,” King Lambert commands, his voice tired. 

“Father,” Dimitri greets, bowing. He takes a step forward, hugging him tightly. Dimitri’s first thought has always been with King Lambert. “How are you?” Dimitri asks, once he releases him.

“Well enough,” King Lambert nods and they continue walking, leaving the others behind. They won’t have that much time to get situated. They need to be ready if Cornelia attacks. She surely would have received word that Dimitri would be rejoining King Lambert at Fhirdiad. 

“Father,” Felix grunts to his father. The others have left to settle themselves into the castle. He doesn’t want to know where Glenn and Ingrid went. 

“Felix,” his father welcomes tiredly. Like King Lambert, his father has aged as well. “It’s good to see you.”

“What’s the situation with Cornelia?” Felix asks quickly. He doesn’t have a strong impression of Cornelia, she was always just around the palace; he never paid much attention to her. 

Rodrigue shakes his head. “It seems that her threat is empty,” he acknowledges. “There is no sign of her forces leaving Arianrhod, they’re just waiting there.” He admits softly. The impending threat of Cornelia leaving Arianrhod to march on Fhirdiad was what forced their hand. 

Felix looks up, meeting his father in the eye. “You don’t think she intends to attack?” He questions sharply. If that’s true, then they just left Claude and his forces for nothing as they attempt an assault on Fort Merceus. If this was a divide and conquer scheme by Cornelia, then they just fell for it.

“No,” Rodrigue sighs, shaking his head. “There are reports of hundreds of men joining Cornelia at Arianrhod but they’ve given no indication of leaving the base.” He walks in-step with Felix until they reach his office, overseeing the blue fields of summer. “Something’s going on there but we aren’t sure what, yet.”

“Is there any good news?” Felix says darkly. Dimitri rushed them over here, concerned that Cornelia would take their arrival as a sign to attack early instead of the end of the month like she wrote.

“The Duscur Queen has offered her full support to us,” Rodrigue muses, opening his door to his office, ushering Felix in. He leaves the door open and opens the curtains, letting the light shine through. “They’ve been having a good time raiding Mateus County.”

“Really?” Felix asks curiously. He always figured that Duscur would remain neutral in this conflict, considering their distrust of Faerghus, which little could blame them for. Less than ten years ago, Faerghus nobles schemed to frame them in the murdering of their king. 

“Well, I think they recognize that the Empire seeks to conquer all of Fodlan, and that includes Duscur as well.” Rodrigue notes, sitting down on his stiff-backed chair. “Now what we need is a plan, moving forward.”

Felix tilts his head curiously. “The fact that you and the others are here, bolsters our forces and our hopes,” Rodrigue explains. “I don’t think Cornelia will be expecting us to be the aggressors. She probably thinks that you all may head back to Garreg Mach at some point. But what happens if we attacked Arianrhod instead?” 

His father sweeps out a map of Eastern Faerghus with Arianrhod circled in bright red ink. “Thankfully we still have the old plan documents of Arianrhod when it was first constructed. There have been modifications but we should still have an idea of the weak points there. I think if we can convince the Duscur Queen to start raiding areas closer to Arianrhod, we can draw at least some of Cornelia’s forces, leaving them slightly more vulnerable.”

* * *

(26th Day of Harpstring Moon, 1186)

“You can’t actually believe that would work, right?” Hilda protests, disbelievingly to Claude. “None of us even look remotely similar to Edelgard, there’s no way we could infiltrate Fort Merceus with that idea. Next.” Their war council is brainstorming ideas of ways to capture Fort Merceus. That was one of Claude’s suggestions. 

Caspar strums a finger on the desk, thinking hard. Lorenz has been watching him carefully. Perhaps the former noble was taking this seriously. 

Claude glares at his right hand woman. “If you have any better ideas, I’m open to suggestions,” Claude retorts, waving his hands and flopping back into his chair. Lorenz resists the urge to lecture him about his posture. They’ve left Garreg Mach and now are at the Great Bridge of Myrddin, plotting out ways to take Fort Merceus. It’s not going well.

Caspar opens his mouth and closes it. He opens his mouth again but no words come out. He shuts it once more, tracing a finger on the table. 

“Caspar?” Lorenz asks politely, “You had something to say?” It’s something Leonie’s been encouraging him on listening to other people’s suggestions and allowing those who don’t usually speak, speak.

Caspar runs a hand through his hair, tousseling it. “Yeah, it’s a pretty stupid idea though,” he muses lightly. “I don’t think it’d work.” Caspar frowns, his face scrunching up in thought.

“Go on Caspar,” Lorenz encourages. “It will most likely be better than anything we’ve heard this afternoon.” There have been truly horrific suggestions this afternoon, including the one they just heard.

“Well….most of the men at that base, they should know me, right?” Caspar states, beginning with confidence. “I grew up there, most of them should remember me running around the walls with Linhardt.” He clasps a heavy hand onto Linhardt’s shoulder who jolts as if he had been sleeping.

When Lorenz takes a closer look at Linhardt, who blinks blearily, he can detect a slight bit of drool running down his lip. Once again, he bites his tongue and the urge to lecture him. 

Everyone is looking at Caspar now, who blusters on. “I mean, I was never formally disinherited from House Bergliez, right? I never wrote to my father and as far as I know, he never wrote to me.” He looks around at all of them. “No one really knows that I’m on the Alliance’s side.” He glances down at his boots and then back up again. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I could walk up to Fort Merceus today and give it a 75% chance that I’d be let back in.”

* * *

(30th Day of Harpstring Moon, 1186)

“I can’t believe we’re actually attempting this.” Hilda hisses to Marianne, using a scope to watch Caspar and Linhardt literally walk up to the gates of Fort Merceus. They’re in the trees near the forest of Fort Merceus and they’re just waiting there to see if it’ll work. If all goes well, Caspar and Linhardt will open the gates and allow their army to come in. If it works. 

“It’s not like anyone else came up with a good idea,” Claude hisses back. The idea is that somehow, Caspar and Linhardt will get their hands on the food and drink of the barracks and poison it. Claude supplied them with the poison. Marianne prays that it’s going to work; the poison that Claude gave them is a sleeping poison. It will just knock the soldiers out for 12 hours, allowing them to sneak in. 

As Claude and Hilda bicker in the background, Marianne keeps her eye trained on the front gate. It looks like Caspar is shouting at someone near the top of the gate but she can’t really tell what else is going on. It’s just Linhardt and Caspar at that point, if they sent anyone else, the soldiers there would get suspicious. Caspar had explained that Linhardt had visited enough that the soldiers there knew him and they certainly knew Caspar. 

After ten minutes, the gates finally creak open. She tugs on Hilda’s shirt, distracting her from her argument with Claude. She pulls away from the scope, urging Hilda to watch. “I think it’s working,” Marianne says hopefully. Once they’ve poisoned the food and drink and opened the gates, Linhardt knows to send up a flare, indicating that they should invade. She swallows tightly. All this war and death haven’t been sitting well with her but if they can capture Fort Merceus with as little bloodshed as possible, it would be a victory.

* * *

(31st Day of Harpstring moon, 1186)

“You should evacuate Fort Merceus,” the Red Queen intones, after they’ve successfully captured the base. Caspar’s plan actually worked to everyone’s surprise. Somehow the soldiers in the base didn’t think to monitor them after celebrating that the young lord had finally returned home after running around Fodlan. 

Somehow, the Red Queen caught them off guard even if they don’t remember seeing them around. They’re unbound, which means that they weren’t here when they first captured the base. Claude aims Failnaught once again at their chest. Hilda gripes Freikugel tightly in her hands. While the Red Queen was right about Cornelia, it didn’t mean that they trusted them. 

“Oh? And why is that?” Claude challenges, standing his ground. The soldiers were easy to capture; his poison, that he brewed himself, worked excellently. There was minimal loss of life and effort. He hoped that Dimitri’s efforts to capture Arianrhod went as successfully as theirs did.

“They know what you’ve done,” the Red Queen says quietly. “And they’re going to destroy you, with a vengeance. They considered you to be a pest but your actions at Gronder Field proved otherwise,” they announced softly. “Evacuate Fort Merceus and don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Their chin raises defiantly and they are warped out of the grounds, leaving Hilda and Claude alone.

Hilda looks at Claude hesitantly. “Look, I know we don’t know who they are but they might have a point.” She says gently, they’ve scored a major victory over the Empire. But the Red Queen may be right; the base was not nearly as full as they had been expecting it to be. Shamir’s reports may have been wrong, although the last time they were updated on the Empire’s movements was over two weeks ago as she had left with Dimitri to Faerghus.

The Empire could intend to siege them in Fort Merceus, except it would be worse as they would be isolated in the Empire and the Imperial Army actually knows where Fort Merceus’s weak points are.

Claude sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Prepare the wagons,” Claude orders. “At the very least, we are taking prisoners of war.” Claude’s shoulders slacken. This victory over capturing Fort Merceus was just deflated by the Red Queen’s words. He hopes that this wasn’t a trap to allow the Empire to re-capture Fort Merceus. 

It takes them nearly two hours to haul the captured prisoners of war out of Fort Merceus, this will at least give them a little bit of bargaining power with the Empire. They’re almost a mile away when they see them though. The missiles in the sky.

They hear them first before they see them, screeching in the air. They break through the clouds, headed for Fort Merceus. The explosion that implodes almost knocks them off their feet, the billowing winds blowing the trees. A bright light explodes on the horizon, forcing them to shield their eyes. 

When the dust clears and the light begins to disappear, there’s nothing left of Fort Merceus, a former husk of the once impenetrable base. Caspar begins to cry in the distance, the sight of his former home reduced to mere rubble. This wakes up their prisoners. 

* * *

(31st Day of Harpstring Moon, 1186)

Their scheme worked. Some of the soldiers left to stop the Duscurians from sieging Mateus and now Cornelia waits in Arianrhod for them to return. She grew complacent once she believed that Dimitri had left for Garreg Mach with his soldiers. In reality, they flew his banners but he remained in Fhirdiad, waiting. 

The gates are still solidly shut but hopefully, they can break through the gates. They can only hope that Claude is having the same success as well.

When the battering ram snaps the gates of Arianrhod open, Sylvain and his battalion, the Gautier Knights, are ready and overwhelm those guarding the gates. This allows Dimitri and his own battalion to follow, creating a big enough berth for their army to break in. 

They rush in, vastly overwhelming their forces. Cornelia is focused in the back, ordering her troops to stand their ground. She hasn’t yet recognized that she has lost this battle and will soon lose her life. She will lose the fortress as well, they all will.

As they push back the forces, Dimitri spots him in the distance- the Death Knight. No one has heard of him in years, having last been seen at the fall of Garreg Mach. Dimitri readies Areadbhar, clutching it tightly. His father passed it down to him, citing that he would never wield it again in his lifetime. When the time came, his father would step down and crown Dimitri as King of Faerghus.

But he has a fight to win, first. One with the Death Knight and then one with Cornelia, who waits in the back, overseeing the carnage with delight. 

“Are you my prey today?” The Death Knight grumbles loudly, facing Dimitri. “Is there no one better?” Dimitri stands off against him, Areadbhar by his side, silent. There’s no need to exchange words, not right now. Mercedes watches them, the runes for Bolganone in her hands. 

It’s not a long drawn out clash. The Death Knight flies at him with incredible speed but Dimitri disarms the Death Knight with ease, knocking him down off his steed, something that Professor Byleth could not even do. He is not the same unconfident teenager he was at the monastery. This was a man, battle-tested and hardened by the years of war and tragedy. This was a man who intended to end this war, no matter what it took, to find answers for something that haunted him for years.

He wields Areadbhar with ease. As a young boy, he had seen his father train with it with admiration. His family’s Heroes Relic was not something he was allowed to touch even with the Crest of Blaiddyd manifesting. It was not something his father wanted him to experience, the need to wield such a weapon. But here he was. 

He slices Areadbhar through the Death Knight’s torso, feeling the armor crack and the blade meet flesh. But even such a grievous wound is not enough to defeat the Death Knight, who swings his Scythe of Sariel at Dimitri. Dimitri dodges, pulling Areadbhar from the Death Knight’s flesh.

“More!” The Death Knight coughs, even as blood begins to spill from his wound. Dimitri waits, soon enough the Death Knight will be dead from his wounds but Dimitri has questions. When the Death Knight scrapes the Scythe of Sariel on the ground and charges at him with unexpected speed, a sustained Bolganone knocks him off his feet and burns him, breaking his mask as it cracks into pieces. 

Dimitri turns over his shoulder, watching Mercedes calmly lower her hands and walk slowly over to the fallen Death Knight. He puts a hand on her shoulder to stop her, the Death Knight has proven himself to be quite durable in their encounters.

She brushes him off, taking steps to see who the Death Knight truly was underneath his mask. When she kneels down, she raises a hand to her mouth and begins to sob quietly. “....Emile.”

“Mercedes?” Jeritza’s unmasked face looks at her softly, his fingers flexing on the ground. “You need to leave,” he chokes out, blood oozing out of his mouth. “They’re going to kill us all. They are coming. They are coming.” His eyes flutter and close for the last time.

Mercedes sobs, tears staining her dress. Dimitri watches her somberly. It was suspected that Jeritza had used a different name when he was employed at the monastery but he would have never suspected that someone as sweet as Mercedes would know him.

“Mercedes,” he says quietly, putting a soft hand on her shoulder. “We need to keep moving.” Cornelia was still out there and regardless of Jeritza’s words, they needed to finish capturing Arianrhod.

Mercedes nods, another sob wrenching out of her. Dimitri wishes he could take time to comfort her but they cannot. They need to keep moving.

With the death of the Death Knight, Arianrhod’s forces fall easily. They recognize their future king and surrender readily, praying for mercy. But Dimitri’s focus isn’t on them, it’s on Cornelia. 

They corner Cornelia on the balcony as Arianrhod falls before her. The Silver Maiden has returned to Faerghus. 

“Hello Dimitri,” Cornelia coos as if she isn’t about to lose her life. “Were you able to see Edelgard? Don’t you love what we’ve done for her?” She twirls her finger through her hair with a smirk. “She’s grown into quite the little Emperor, has she not?”

Dimitri narrows his eyes, aiming Areadbhar at her. “What did you do to her?” He growls, terrifyingly, baring his teeth.

“We set her free,” Cornelia smiles, her lips curling pleasantly. “So awful, how you kept her hidden from her father. We brought them together, just like she wanted.”

Dimitri takes a step forward, saying nothing. Cornelia has proven herself nothing more than a traitor. Any words she says about Edelgard are lies. But she rarely spoke about her father, only speaking of him as a distant figure whom she loved dearly. Areadbhar tightens in his grip, waiting for any move from her.

She throws a Luna at him and he dodges, rolling towards her. He stabs Areadbhar through her torso, piercing her with ease. He kills her in one easy motion, a simple stab through her gut. Her blood spatters onto him, black as night.

Dimitri looks at it, her bleeding body as it shrivels and turns into dust. Just like Kronya and Solon, she was one of them it seems. He looks over the damaged state of Arianrhod, wondering if they should heed Jeritza’s last words. 

They had taken a small force to capture Arianrhod, any larger and it would have alerted Cornelia to their plans. But it worked and it didn’t seem like they had many casualties.

But his instincts are telling him to leave even while victorious. He shakes his head, walking quickly to the rest of his troops. “Come on,” he orders his generals. “Time to go.” 

Mercedes looks at him with a tear-stained look but she says nothing, focusing on healing their soldiers.

“We need to head back to Fhirdiad,” Dimitri continues, heading towards the entrance. “We cannot defend ourselves properly in Arianrhod against the rest of Cornelia’s forces when they return.”

Ingrid nods and prepares Adele and Luin and her battalion. Sylvain watches Dimitri warily before turning to his own. With the ruined gates of the Silver Maiden, they cannot stave off the rest of Cornelia’s army with their numbers. They left the majority of them on the Talitean Fields.

When they are almost an hour a way, they hear screeching in the sky. It is not the sound of wyverns but the air screaming. It’s a clear summer’s day so they watch as large protruding objects hit the walls of Arianrhod, destroying them. They come, one after another, burning through the sky. A bright light explodes on the horizon, blinding them.

The trees billow and quake at the force and they watch as the smoke clears and Arianrhod burns in ruins. They’ve won the battle today but at what cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 ends next week! Y'all are going to love it. I'm probably going to take another two-week break after publishing it. I'm not behind but I want to finish Part 4 before I start publishing it. I'm aiming for 36 chapters and right now I'm on chapter 35 so I can see the light. I really think you guys are going to love Part 4. 
> 
> Yes, Ferdinand is alive. He's been causing trouble for the Empire for almost two years and it was Hubert who got him out! Go Hubert. The Red Queen makes their appearance again. People probably already have a very good idea on who they are but no spoilers lol. 
> 
> Believable or not, Caspar and Linhardt literally waltz right up to Fort Merceus and are let in. Let's be real, there's no way they can disguise anyone as Edelgard so I chose a different route. Merceus and Arianhrod fall in the same day, destroyed by the missiles. I'm sorry Mercedes but maximum angst and you're killing Jeritza/Emile. My bad. 
> 
> The war is ending soon. The Empire has its back against the wall.
> 
> As always comments and/or critiques are appreciated.


	26. Part III Chapter VIII

* * *

(2nd Day of Garland Moon, 1186)

Cornelia’s forces never caught up to them. Perhaps it was the smoking ruin of Arianrhod that stopped them in the tracks. Or the Duscur Queen did her job too well in slowing them down. But Dimitri’s forces never spotted them as they returned to Fhirdiad. King Lambert will receive letter after letter from nobles who re-pledge their fealty to the King and that he will offer clemency after their betrayal. He will take their men but not their lives. 

When he describes the smoldering husk of Arianhrod, his father and Lord Rodrigue can barely believe their ears. But each letter details the ruin of one of the Kingdom’s longest-standing fortresses destroyed in a day. Some battalions used gunpowder and oil to decimate but they could not destroy stone. 

Cornelia turned to ash like Kronya and Solon after being killed but that means little. They still have no answers on who they were or what their goals were. 

Claude sends a letter, his forces have returned to Garreg Mach. They cannot stay in Fort Merceus as it has been destroyed as well. There was another sighting of the Red Queen, who warned them once again. They wait for his return. 

“Arianhrod was destroyed too?” Claude asks, slouching in his chair disbelievingly. They have a quick meeting as they discuss the destruction of two fortified bases in one day, both seemingly by the same force. 

“Yes,” Dimitri confirms, sitting in the war room with the rest of them. He taps his fingers on the table nervously. Even though it’s been days since Arianhrod was destroyed, he is still rattled by the thought of the once-mighty Silver Maiden being destroyed. 

They’ve just returned to Garreg Mach and the tales they’ve both told seem more outlandish than the next. “If I had not been there to witness it with my two eyes, I would have not believed it. Arianrhod, gone.” It had been a mainstay in the Kingdom defenses since 751 and now there was nothing. Everyone was on edge because of the last month’s events and that would be an understatement.

Claude shakes his head. “Goddess, I-“ he sighs, straightening up in his chair. “They took out Fort Merceus and Arianrhod in one day,” he rubs his eyes tiredly. The past week has not been kind to them. The appearance of the Red Queen and the destruction of both military bases have diminished any sense of victory for them. “It makes me wonder why they haven’t just destroyed our base already. It’d be easy. Just use whatever they used to destroy Fort Merceus and Arianrhod and then they don’t have to worry about the war anymore.”

Dimitri’s stomach drops. Yes, what exactly did Edelgard have to lose if she used those weapons on Garreg Mach? Arianrhod and Fort Merceus were bases that never fell in Fodlan’s history. Garreg Mach could easily be destroyed like them. What was stopping her?

Seteth’s brow furrows tightly. Last month, he stayed at Garreg Mach with a small unit of the Knights of Seiros. This was in case the Imperial Army decided to attack again. But when they launch the final siege on Enbarr, he will be there to look for Lady Rhea. 

Ferdinand stands, hands planted firmly on the table. “I have never heard of such weaponry being tested in the Empire. There have been no reports or evidence of this device ever being used.” Ferdinand is a blessing. He’s trained in the Imperial Army tactics and the number of trained men that he brought with them has bolstered their forces. He’ll be important when they capture Enbarr. 

Claude was supposed to wait at Fort Merceus for Dimitri and his forces to rejoin them so they could march on Enbarr. But as Fort Merceus was destroyed, they returned to Garreg Mach to regroup, physically and emotionally. 

Many of the men who were stationed at Fort Mercesus have sided with them. They realize that if they had been in the fort when it was destroyed, they would have died. The callousness of their leadership unnerved them and they swore loyalty to Caspar. At least Caspar would never sacrifice their lives like that. 

There were some of Dimitri’s forces left in Fhirdiad. Those who were already stationed there and some who reswore their loyalty to King Lambert. But he has more than when he left. They have orders to march to the Great Bridge of Myrddin. King Lambert plans on retaking the rest of the Kingdom, eventually attacking the Empire’s borders as well. Cornelia is dead and they are on the offense. The western side of the Empire is theirs for the taking. 

Ashe saw his siblings at Fhirdiad before he had to tearfully leave them behind. They’re staying in the palace with King Lambert and Lord Rodrigue. The Duscur Queen wrote to his father gleefully, stating that they had minimal casualties and had taken Cornelia’s forces on a wild goose chase around the Faerghus countryside before surrounding the exhausted forces. 

Baron Dominic was placed under house arrest, all nobles who chose to side with the Faerghus Dukedom will have their punishments decided after the war. Their men will serve in the army but they will not be commanders. Annette will lead her family’s men as the scion of Dominic.

They are preparing their march on Enbarr. Everything's coming together. The only concern is the “missiles” that destroyed both Fort Merceus and Arianrhod, they have quite the range.

The Empire is losing, and they know it. This is when they are most dangerous.

* * *

(4th Day of Garland Moon, 1186)

Mercedes is hiding in her room. She’s been hiding there since they returned from Arianrhod. She has been quiet and withdrawn, she hasn’t even stepped foot in the kitchens! Annette is worried. Dimitri has checked in on Mercedes but he hasn’t gotten anywhere either. They killed the Death Knight together, which, good riddance.

He’s haunted her dreams since Garreg Mach. He was a specter looming in the shadows as he threatened fellow students. Annette dreamed that he took her once after she failed a test. 

She brings Mercedes one of her favorite meals, Grilled Herring, that Dedue cooked. “Mercie?” She gently knocks on the door to her room. “You hungry?” She’s tried not to bother Mercedes too much since she’s busy. Felix has been teaching her how to fight with a sword. She uses Crusher with ease, but some situations call for a sword rather than an axe.

But Mercedes’s seclusion is beginning to worry her. No answer. She turns the knob to open the door and balances the tray of food on the other hand against her hip. 

There’s a lump under Mercedes’s blankets as her head is burrowed deep under the pillow. Annette frowns, putting down the tray of food. Even when Mercedes was worried about the ramifications of leaving her adopted father, she never behaved like this. Annette closes the door behind her with a nudge of her foot and sets the tray of food on the table, sitting on Mercedes’ bed with her.

After a few minutes of odd silence. “Everything okay, Mercie?” She asks hesitantly. She doesn’t touch her, just waiting for her answer.

“No.” Mercedes responds after a moment, her voice muffled underneath the blankets. She doesn’t even poke her head out of the blankets. Now Annette’s starting to worry.

“Anything I can do to help?” Annette asks gently, glancing over where she thinks Mercie’s head is. She doesn’t want to sit on the wrong end by mistake.

“…can you just stay here?” Mercedes says slowly, her voice muffled. “I just-, I need to be near someone right now.” Annette blinks, surprised. Something really is bothering her. 

“Do you want me to come under the blanket with you?” She asks, guessing. They used to share beds at the School of Sorcery. Annette was homesick; she never left the Dominic territory for long periods and Mercedes was really nice. Even when she cried and the girls ignored her, Mercedes comforted her. 

Mercedes raises the blanket and Annette slides in underneath after removing her boots. It feels like old times when Mercedes used to tell scary stories to her. But there are no scary stories to tell, not anymore.

Annette turns, facing Mercedes. Her eyes are puffy from tears dimmed in the shadow and Annette’s heart wrenches. “Do you want to talk about it?” She asks again. Something is eating at Mercedes inside and Annette really just wants to help her as much as she can.

Mercedes’s voice catches and she stares at Annette. She buries her hands into Annette’s dress, her voice is shaky. “I had a little brother.” Annette gasps but doesn’t say anything.

In the decade that she’s known Mercedes, she’s never talked about a brother. She knew that her mother’s second husband was a right bastard, but they were able to escape him, seeking asylum in a Faerghus church. “His name was Emile and he was a year younger than me. He was so sweet and kind.” Mercedes murmurs, tearfully. “We had to leave him behind when we escaped. My stepfather would have chased us if Emile came with us.”

Annette stays quiet, listening to Mercedes’s story. “I wanted him to come but Emile was his heir and he had a Crest. He would have never stopped chasing us. So, he stayed.” A tear leaks down her face, Annette rubs a thumb to wipe it away.

“Did you ever see him again?” Annette asks softly. Mercedes never mentioned she had a younger brother, but it suited her in a way. She was always so friendly and sweet and protective. She would have made the perfect older sister.

Mercedes shakes her head. “House Bartels was destroyed almost three months after we fled. We heard the entire house was decimated, my mother and I believed Emile died in the destruction.” More tears begin to leak out as Mercedes begins to sob. 

“But we met him.” Mercedes chokes out, crying. “He was Jeritza. He was the Death Knight.” And she was the one to kill him.

* * *

(7th Day of Garland Moon, 1186)

Bernadetta shares her latest letter with Ferdinand and the others. It’s dated from last month, indicating that the Empire has restricted the mail flow. It doesn’t say much- short pleasantries and a little bit about Petra, how she returned from Gronder Field. She doesn’t tell Dorothea that they’re going to march on Enbarr soon. She’s too smart to not already know. 

She desperately wants to tell Dorothea that Ferdinand is alive but it’s too risky. It’s far too risky for everyone. Surely the Empire is aware that their former heir is alive, but Dorothea wouldn’t know.

She straightens her back, nocking the arrow between the string. It’s a comfort to her now, standing on the training room floor to practice her shooting. It’s soothing, watching the release of her bow and the arrow flying straight. It calms her mind. At the end of this month, Enbarr will fall. 

It’s a strange idea, that after five years, this war will be over. A lot of their business had to do with the tightened borders and the number of bandits roaming around so they’ve already started discussing what changes they can do to make sure that their business doesn’t suffer. Ignatz is considering a role in the arts- Lorenz has offered multiple times to bankroll his talents and finally, after years of encouragement, he’s considering it. They will miss Ignatz but his heart has always belonged to his painting. 

Linhardt wants to do crest research- Professor Hanneman returned to the Empire when Garreg Mach fell, relying on his contacts there to shelter him. If he’s still alive, Linhardt will reach out to him and if he’s not, Linhardt will look to continue his research. Caspar will most likely follow him wherever Linhardt goes. Caspar has been completely enthusiastic about any job they took, it’s hard to imagine him settling down, ever. But he will for Linhardt.

Raphael….well Raphael hasn’t talked about what he’s going to do. His grandfather and his sister run a small inn but as Raphael has admitted several times, he’s not cut out for that work. Too big and clumsy, he says. He might stay a mercenary but he’ll have to find another mercenary group to join since theirs will most likely be disbanded. 

Bernadetta isn’t sure where she’ll end up. She’ll miss their little mercenary group, but it has been five years. It’s been a long time. One of the pros is that she can now fall asleep anywhere when in the past, she used to be so scared about falling asleep in the open- keeping her awake when they traveled outside of the monastery. But in the end, she’ll probably stick close to Raphael, which she hopes he doesn’t mind. She can’t imagine ever returning to Varley though. She hopes that Ferdinand won’t ask her to return. She doesn’t want to.

Whatever government Claude and Dimitri might be planning, Ferdinand will probably be a part of it. It’s hard to imagine anything else for him; he’s always had ideas about how the nobility can better themselves but now he’ll be able to put it into action.

Ferdinand mentioned that along with his father, her father was placed under house arrest. They were the only two of the Insurrection who were. Hubert apparently killed his father, poisoning his meal. She resists the urge to shiver, it would be like Hubert to do something like that. He often loomed in the night, cutting a frightening figure in the shadows. Her father very rarely spoke of his colleagues, but he did not have a favorable opinion of Count Vestra or his son. She didn’t know why until she met him.

Ashe walks in with a frown on his face and his bow tucked underneath his arm. It looks like he’s going to do some shooting practice as well. Bernadetta nods at him quickly, rushing towards her target. She’s gotten more comfortable with people but still… she doesn’t like to train in front of them. What happens if she made a stupid face? She’s pretty sure she still screams on the battlefield, even while killing people.

She wonders what Ashe will do after the war. His family was close to Arianrhod so he was able to see them even after Arianrhod was blown up. She doesn’t have anyone she misses like that- maybe her mother, she does miss her a little. But her father…he could rot for all she cared. And that was a fact.

* * *

(11th Day of Garland Moon, 1186) 

Ferdinand overlooks the city plan of Enbarr. It’s old and it was found in the dusty records of the library at Garreg Mach. But it will have to do for now. He spent some time overseeing the fortification of the defenses of the city and he’s probably going to regret that at the end of the month.

He circles the weaker gates, the ones that cannot be armed sufficiently. However, Edelgard was an excellent student at the Officer’s Academy, she would be ready for them. Marianne watches him as he sits near the stables, working in the dirt. It’s been almost thirty minutes since he sat down with a kettle of tea and started working. 

She hasn’t spoken to him much since he met them at Gronder Field. He was always so busy with Claude and Dimitri; but as they prepare for a final assault on Enbarr, there’s a lot of planning to be done. She knows that Judith and Nardel are near the capital of the Empire, battling small skirmishes as Dimitri and Claude prepare most of their coalition’s forces for the end of the month. It’s hard to imagine, the war finally coming to an end. There won’t be a shadow that hangs over Fodlan any longer.

Marianne works hard, carrying bales of hay over to the horses’ feeding troughs. Thankfully, she forewent her usual dress and was wearing pants and a loose-fitting shirt. Other people could feed the horses, but Marianne likes her time in the morning. Also, when she finishes her chores, she can take Dorte out riding.

On her fifth bale of hay and when she was struggling with it, she finds it being lifted from her arms. It’s Ferdinand, finished with his work. He smiles at her, charmingly, and takes it over to the end of the stall. “Last one?” He calls out, spreading it amongst the horses’ trough. 

Marianne nods, sweating heavily. “Do you want some tea?” He asks quickly, walking back over. His long hair is unbound and drapes over his shoulders. Marianne wants to braid it but doesn’t think he’ll say yes. So she doesn’t ask.

Ferdinand digs around in his pouch, humming to himself as he searches for a blend of tea. “You liked Cinnamon Tea in school, correct?” He inquires, revealing a pouch of Cinnamon Tea. Marianne nods again, sitting down with him. She doesn’t mind sitting in the dirt either. She’s surprised that he remembers her favorite type of tea. 

He prepares the tea, humming quietly to himself as he stokes the small flames. Like Lorenz, Ferdinand enjoyed his tea. 

Marianne watches him carefully. He seemed happier than he was in school, less burdened. She had heard that he had been in the Empire these past five years, having been ousted from his position as the Emperor’s heir by Edelgard. It didn’t seem to bother him too much as he worked, making their tea.

“It’s good to see you, Marianne,” Ferdinand hums, conversationally. “You look much better than when we last spoke.” He steeps the tea, letting the tea packet sit in the boiling water.

She was, she was much better. Losing Professor Byleth, it had made her want to do better and Hilda wrote to her every week, if not every month, talking to her about her life. She didn’t want to disappoint Hilda, so she wrote back and every letter she wrote, she felt better. She slept better and she had more energy to spend with Dorte. Her life was better than when it was at the academy. 

“I am better,” Marianne confirms, tucking her knees under her chin. She smiles at Ferdinand as he removes the tea leaves from the kettle, the scent of cinnamon wafting in the air. Hesitantly, she says, “You seem better as well.” There was a certain levity to Ferdinand’s shoulders that wasn’t there five years ago. Perhaps it was one of the benefits of growing up, but there was a calmness to Ferdinand that was there. Hopefully, she had that same calmness as well.

(17th Day of Garland Moon, 1186)

Ingrid traces a finger on Glenn’s bare chest. They both agreed that war was no place to raise a child but it didn’t mean that they didn’t have sex, no matter how Felix treated them. 

“You’re thinking too much,” Glenn murmurs, his chest rumbling. He pushes her over, hovering on top of her. “After what we just did, you really shouldn’t be thinking so much.” He presses a light kiss to her chest, sucking softly. 

“I’m just thinking about the end of the war,” Ingrid answers, running her hands through his hair. After the fall of Garreg Mach, Glenn wore his hair short. “What we’ll be doing.”

Glenn moves up to her neck, kissing her bare skin. “You will be the amazing Lady of Galatea and I will be your trophy husband,” he responds teasingly, he says through open-mouthed kisses. “And we will have as many children as you would like to bear.” He runs his hands over her body, feeling the muscular planes of her stomach. “And you will become a legend for the history books.”

Glenn and Felix’s mother had died in childbirth and Glenn mentioned that he feared losing her the same way. But she had been a more delicate woman, Felix inherited her build, while Ingrid was strong and powerful. Childbirth wouldn’t threaten her like it did most women in Fodlan.

Ingrid took a monthly tea and Glenn never finished inside of her. It wasn’t the best way to stop conception but it was one of the few offered in Fodlan. 

“You’d be my handsome trophy husband,” Ingrid teases, bringing him to kiss her on the lips. Their tongues mingle as he dips a hand down to her cunt, still slick from earlier. She keens under his touch, still sensitive. She shakes her head. “Later,” she presses. Glenn moves his hand away, placing it on her hip. 

“You okay?” He asks quietly, pressing his forehead against hers. She couldn’t feel his erection pressing against her hip and she wasn’t in the mood to go any further. 

Ingrid nods, “Earlier was a lot.” She explains, she was still feeling overstimulated and she just wanted to talk right now. She loves having Glenn’s mouth on her but any more orgasms and her body would go numb. They would have time later to have more sex. 

“Okay,” Glenn says easily, nosing his way into her hairline. “I’ve already told Dimitri; I’ve spent a lot of time in his father’s service but I won’t be in his unless he asks for it. He has Felix to help him as well.” He looks her in the eyes. “Galatea will be our home and I don’t intend to be my father, splitting his time between Galatea and Fhirdiad.”

Her breath catches; Galatea has done well in the past decade ever since they introduced Duscurian farm techniques to the region, but there’s still work to be done. Her people have suffered from the lack of food, so much that even affected her own family. 

She has plans for Galatea and her father has informed her that she will inherit the title over her brothers. Her brothers have chosen to serve in Faerghus’s military and have no marriage prospects. She will be the one to carry on the Galatea line.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, leaning up to kiss him, her hand curling around his neck. Glenn has been all she’s wanted and more. She knows she’s lucky; she’s been promised to Glenn all her life but there are more than enough stories in Fodlan about women being tormented by their husbands. Mercedes’s story is more than enough.

“For what?” Glenn asks curiously, resting his head on his hand. “I’ve been a statesman for Faerghus for almost ten years, if Dimitri or Felix ever need any advice, I’ll be there for them. But what I want to do is spend time with my beautiful wife.”

* * *

(21st Day of Garland Moon, 1186)

Evacuation orders have been sounded throughout the city of Enbarr, passed on by the Empire’s agents. To Petra’s frustration, she has not met with Edelgard despite her best efforts. Any notes she sends come back returned and unopened. They do not even spare her the dignity of feigning that her letters are being read. 

She returned from the Gronder Field, shaken. There was a man that targeted her; she had been distracted, catching a glimpse of Caspar’s bright blue hair that this man had caught her off guard. Edelgard had saved her by breaking the man’s axe and knocking him back. Edelgard did not kill the man but she made sure that Petra was safe before moving on. They eventually retreated back to Fort Merceus and eventually Enbarr.

She wished to be deployed at Fort Merceus but Duke Gerth stated no, she was too important. Even though they were losing the war, their control over Brigid was paramount. She had heard that Fort Merceus had been the home of Caspar and she spent a little bit of time exploring the grounds. She wanted to see what his childhood bedroom was like but found that section of the wing was barred off, by orders of Count Bergliez. It saddened her to hear that the coalition of the Alliance and the Kingdom had destroyed and turned the fortress into rubble.

She knocks heavily on the door to the quarters of the Mittlefrank Opera. It is believed that their enemy will attack at the end of the month and the commoners in Enbarr have until the 27th to evacuate. By then they will lock and secure the gates, there will be no one going in and out of the city. She needs to make sure that Dorothea leaves with them. She does not want to imagine her on the streets while the city is under siege.

One of the girls who reside there opens the door, looking harried. She nods at Petra, a frequent and welcome guest at the opera. “Dorothea!” She calls out. “It’s for you!” She’s dressed in simple clothing. As war rages closer to Enbarr, the Mittlefrank Opera has closed its doors. No one wants to hear songs in this time of trouble.

“Nice to see you, Petra,” she smiles, welcoming her in. “Sorry, I have to go pack. Need to make sure that we’re as far from Enbarr as possible.” She hurries off, leaving Petra in the foyer, waiting for Dorothea. 

“Petra!” Dorothea cries out, wearing her customary red dress. “It’s good to see you,” she beams at her. She wears a shawl around her shoulders as she steps down the stairs. Professor Manuela is most likely nearby, hopefully packing. 

They exchange cheek kisses and Dorothea smiles brightly. “What can I do for you today?” Before Gronder Field, they used to have tea at least once a week but since she returned, they have only been able to meet once a month. Her duties are growing by the day as Enbarr prepares to be attacked.

“I have been in thought-” She corrects herself. “I am wondering when you are leaving Enbarr,” Petra says quietly. “I wish to say my goodbyes to you then.” Her hands twist behind her back. Dorothea has been a welcome friend since they were at the Officer’s Academy together. She wants to say goodbye to her before she leaves. There may be a chance that it will be the last.

“Oh,” Dorothea responds, a frown pursing her lips. “Manuela and I-, we’ve decided. We’re not evacuating.” Petra stares, surprised. The evacuation order was not mandatory of course but the Imperial soldiers did not want to worry about protecting civilians from the Kingdom and Alliance coalition. 

“Why?” Petra asks, shocked. She is staying because she has to. The Empire will not allow her to leave. Dorothea has a choice, she can leave the city behind her. Despite her magic, if she stays, she will be in danger.

Dorothea runs a hand through her flowing locks. “It’s complicated okay? If we leave, the hospital wing has already lost a quarter of their healers.” At Petra’s questioning look, Dorothea explains. “The Imperial Army may have given the order to evacuate but they aren’t moving the wounded out of the city. Or the orphans.” She leads Petra up the stairs to one of the rooms. 

She opens the door, revealing a dozen children, all wearing rags and immensely dirty. They’re all eating bread ravenously. They also look at Dorothea with adoring eyes. She smiles at them and then closes the door. “We can’t leave them Petra,” she says softly. “If we evacuate them out of Enbarr we could lose track of them. And there are more out there. Someone has to protect them.”

She stands firm, she’s not leaving the city.

* * *

(25th Day of Garland Moon, 1186)

Claude stands on a hill overlooking Enbarr, Ayla and Hilda are with them too. At this point, they’re preparing for the attack on Enbarr. Dimitri is at the Great Bridge of Myrddin with the rest of the coalition. This will be the final scouting trip of the war.

“You okay?” Hilda asks, standing next to him. “You’re being awfully quiet.” She muses, leaning on Freikugel. It’s just the two of them with Ayla. The original plan was that they would wait at Fort Merceus to regroup before their final siege on Enbarr. But since Fort Merceus was destroyed, they had to regroup and replan. This allowed Enbarr to fortify itself and regroup as well- Claude hopes that wasn’t a mistake. 

“It’s almost over,” Claude muses. “I didn’t think we’d actually get this far. I thought something would go wrong.” Ayla noses him on the side and he scratches her nose. She had to take a couple of weeks off to let her wing heal but it’s back to normal. She had been waiting at the Great Bridge of Myrddin for him and he was happy to see that she made it there without much issue.

“What between the constant backstabbing?” Hilda snorts, referring to the struggles both he and Dimitri faced when getting the rest of their country in line with them. Dimitri faced most of western Faerghus whereas Claude had Count Gloucester to contend with- there were minor nobles who sided with Count Gloucester but when he surrendered, so did they.

Almost all of Faerghus was under King Lambert’s control and they were stationed at Castle Gaspard, preparing to make their own push into the western side of Adrestia. The war was almost over. When Enbarr falls, so most likely will the rest of the Empire.

“I guess,” Claude shrugs. He had spent the last five years manipulating the rest of the Alliance. He wasn’t sure how peacetime would treat them. Despite his leadership, the Alliance was more than wary of him. It did help have the Roundtable and their heirs supporting him. But the minor nobles, whose voice often went unheard, were more skeptical of him. He would have to work on that.

Hilda scoffs. “I’m looking to a peaceful retirement,” she grouses, lifting Freikugel onto her shoulder. “Holst wants me to take over but that’s going to be a no from me.”

“Then what will you do?” Claude asks curiously. “Someone has to represent House Goneril at the Roundtable and Holst is busy with Fodlan’s Locket.” He hasn’t been that busy in the past few years, mostly because he’s snuck Nader on the other side. They were able to re-station the troops that House Goneril sent to them at Fodlan’s Locket without a hitch, just like he predicted. 

“Actually…” Hilda hesitates. “I’ve been talking with Holst about this a lot. But we’re thinking of opening talks with Almyra.” Claude stares at her surprised. He doesn’t say a word to her.

“All of this fighting is getting me down,” Hilda complains, flicking a pigtail behind her shoulder. “I’m not looking forward to decades of fighting with the Almyrans. Peace sounds nice, ya know? Holst will take my place at the Roundtable and I’ll take over Fodlan’s Locket. Probably not best to start peace talks with someone who has been killing you for years.” 

“It does,” Claude agrees but says little. He wants to see where Hilda is going with this.

“It might take a little bit of time but when the war is over and we’ve figured out what we’re doing with the Empire, Holst is going to introduce the topic to the Roundtable.” She sneaks a look at Claude. She may be Claude’s right-hand woman but House Goneril is independent of House Riegan. She’s not a mindless drone. “Bets on how many fits Count Gloucester’s going to have?”

“So many,” Claude snorts. Count Gloucester was a pain in House Riegan’s side. It will probably be toned down after the war, they haven’t decided but there’s a chance that Lorenz will inherit his father’s title as they might force him to step down. But he won’t be pleased- he may be the most anti-Almyran out of them.

Claude hasn’t figured out if it’s because he knows Claude’s background or not. “So what’s going to happen to Fodlan’s Locket?” He asks curiously. A lot of money went into the construction of that fortress and it would be a waste of money not to use it. 

Hilda shrugs, “Not sure yet. Holst and I are still figuring that out. It’d be cool if we could return all the Almyrans back to Almyra, if they want to go, of course. They've been in Fodlan for so long, this is their home now.” She says, thinking of Cyril. Since the slave trade was ousted in both the Kingdom and the Alliance, the Almyrans were enslaved were given the choice of freedom or paid labor- well-compensated paid labor as well as reparations for their years in service. It was a start.

There have been more Almyrans popping up in the trade fields of the Alliance. They can’t return home unfortunately and there are pockets of communities growing. 

He had gotten incredibly close to the Golden Deer and he still held out hope of finding Rhea. But even after all their inroads into the Empire, there was no sign of the Archbishop. Or Professor Byleth. “Probably open up for trading,” she muses, fingering the gloved handle of Freikugel. “We can decide on that,” she looks at him, smiling. “We’re the future of Fodlan, you know? We get to decide what Fodlan becomes.”

* * *

(31st Day of Garland Moon, 1186)

For three days, the battering rams have been banging on the gates of Enbarr. When they marched to Enbarr, it was clear that they were prepared for a long-drawn-out siege. Shamir’s spies reported that they evacuated the citizens earlier that week. Enbarr is filled with the remaining soldiers of Adrestia stationed on the eastern side. They are in it for the long haul.

However, early in the morning on the last day of Garland, the battering rams break through the gates. The soldiers are prepared. Dimitri and Claude have announced no looting older amongst the soldiers, but even then, it will be difficult to stop them. They will have to trust the other commanders who joined them to control their men.

Ferdinand provided a map of Enbarr, describing the canals and buildings that made up the city. The palace would be in the center of it all, where Edelgard was most likely waiting. Hubert would be most likely waiting at the palace gates, preparing for his death. The war is almost over.

* * *

(31st Day of Garland Moon, 1186)

Dorothea drags in another body of a wounded soldier, sweat dripping down her neck. She’s so grateful that today she was wearing pants. She can’t imagine trying to haul injured men to safety in her dress, even if the bloodstains would be hidden better. She isn’t even sure if he’s from the Empire or if he’s part of the coalition. She doesn’t care. Anyone she can help will be worth it.

The children are in the back with Manuela as she tries to keep them calm. She and Petra had an endless discussion about their decision to not evacuate, but if Dorothea loses even one of the children outside of Enbarr, she couldn’t forgive herself. They picked up a few more children in the past few days, bringing their total to 17. Most of the company left evacuating from Enbarr. But this is where Dorothea grew up, in the City of Dreams.

She knows Edelgard wouldn’t have given up easily, the thudding of the gate could be heard around the entire city for three days. Three long days- after the first two, the children started sobbing, considering it their death knell. When the coalition destroyed the gate, she couldn’t decide if she was relieved or frightened.

She hauls him into one bed, his blood staining the sheets. It would be unfortunate if the girls returned to ruined beds, but at this point, Dorothea cared more about human life than bloodied sheets.

This one isn’t as badly wounded as some of the others. Dorothea has had over one corpse on this bed where she’s dragged them out to the back where singers usually met their lovers there. There won’t be any today for obvious reasons. Most fled the city.

She focuses on healing the wounds on his stomach. Manuela chose not to help Dorothea, which was fine, but sooner rather than later, Dorothea is going to run out of magic and she won’t be helpful to anyone.

When she takes the soldier to the other room where she’s keeping the rest of the wounded soldiers but are still unconscious, she goes out to find more of them that have strayed to the Mittlefrank Operatic House. They don’t fight near the civilian district, but there are still soldiers who fight in the streets. It’s chaos.

She is out on the streets, searching for more wounded when someone attacks her. A cavalier throws his javelin at her, which she dodges, her muscle memory acting for her. She throws a Bolganone spell at him instinctively, knocking him off his horse and killing him. She isn’t sure what side he is on, but she’s going to defend herself against anybody.

She hears the clopping of another horse entering the clearing and Dorothea readies the runes for another Bolganone spell in her hands. Despite her extensive use of magic today, she still has a few more charges in her. But once she gets to safety, she won’t be going outside anymore.

“Dorothea?!” The horse stops and she turns, seeing the figure of Ferdinand von Aegir mounted on his horse, Annalise.

She holds a hand to her mouth, surprised. She thought he died two years ago. She chokes back a sob, tears leaking from her eyes. He dismounts and stops, staring at her, disbelief in his eyes. He has blood splattered on him; he must have been part of the coalition of the Kingdom and the Alliance, it’s the only explanation. He would have written letters to her if he was still part of the Empire. The letters she received from Bernadetta were usually opened and weeks later.

She throws herself at him, sobbing into his shoulder. She thought he had died all those years ago. He rests his hands on the small of her back, breathing in her hair. She had foregone the perfume today; she thought it wasn’t necessary. Petra wouldn’t be there to smell it, anyway. “I thought-”

“I escaped,” Ferdinand explains quickly, releasing her. Her eyes rove over him hungrily. He’s grown out his hair, and it suits him in a way she didn’t think about. “Hubert got me out.”

She stops, staring at him. “What?” She had never seen Hubert in person, neither did Petra, he was always too tied up in meetings to see her. She saw him in the distance, looking paler than ever.

He nods, “He got me out.” Ferdinand confirms breathlessly. “What are you still doing here? I thought the civilians were to be evacuated.” He glances down at her, surprised. “Why are you still here?”

“There are orphans,” Dorothea stammers, her hands wringing as she takes in the sight of Ferdinand. “Manuela and I- we couldn’t leave them.”

Ferdinand sighs, running a gloved hand through his hair. “I understand,” he nods, leading Annalise over to her. “But Dorothea, it’s dangerous. We need to get you to safety.” He looks around. “Are you still staying at the Opera House?” He had gone there several times when they were both still in Enbarr. The girls started teasing her about it, calling him her ‘noble lover’.

“Yes,” Dorothea states calmly. He puts her on Annalise but stays on the ground, guiding his mount through the streets of Enbarr.

“You need to stay inside,” Ferdinand heeds, walking beside her. “It’s not safe- Claude and Dimitri ordered that there not be any looting but soldiers,” he grimaces. “They don’t always listen.” He looks at her, smiling weakly. “I’ll let the others know to give the Opera House a wide berth, but Dorothea, you can’t go outside.”

“I understand,” Dorothea breathes. Ferdinand had a point- she needed to protect the Opera House. Saving soldiers was a noble task, but it also meant risking her life.

When they reach the Opera House, Ferdinand grabs her waist, lifting her off Annalise. He kisses her forehead briefly. “Stay safe,” he smiles. “When all of this is over, I’ll come by the Opera House to make sure you all stay together, alright?”

Dorothea hugs him, squeezing her arms around him tightly. “It’s good to see you, Ferdinand.” She didn’t think she’d see him here today. She didn’t think that she would have a little hope.

“You as well,” Ferdinand replies, his hands reaching around her. “I will see you later, I promise.” He gets back up on Annalise, looking back at her. His lance is latched to her side, and he pushes a lock of hair behind his ear.

Before she closes the back door to the Opera House, “Ferdinand!” He looks back, stopping Annalise. “Petra’s out there, find her please.” He nods and leaves her, waiting at the doorway.

* * *

(31st Day of Garland Moon, 1186)

Caspar stops dead in his tracks when he sees Petra in the distance. Her long maroon hair in intricate braids. He lowers his axe. “Caspar?” Linhardt stops, watching his friend carefully. “What’s wrong?” Caspar points wordlessly, as he spots Petra wielding her sword with ease, slicing through Alliance soldiers. Linhardt’s heart stops- he didn’t want to face Petra on the battlefield.

She stands over bodies, surrounding her. Despite her status as the princess of Brigid, she doesn’t even have a battalion near her. Who was protecting her? Did the Empire just have her fighting for them with no consideration for her safety?

She stops when she sees them, her gaze softening. Her sword is still raised protectively on her body. They haven’t seen each other in five years.

“Caspar, Linhardt, it is good to see you? Have you been well?” She asks as if they aren’t in the middle of a battlefield. They’re deep into the city, headed towards the palace. Their battalions left to go secure the western gate. If reinforcements are coming to save Enbarr, at least capturing the western gate should slow them down.

“Why are you still fighting against us Petra?” Caspar says desperately, he’s lowered his axe completely but Linhardt still has his fire runes pulled just in case. In the face of war, Petra still remained with the Empire, but even she had to see that they were losing. If she stayed, she would die in the streets of Enbarr.

Caspar would not want the guilt of striking Petra down as his father did with Petra’s own father, but Linhardt would kill Petra before he let her kill Caspar. He would regret it afterward, but Caspar was his.

“They threaten Brigid,” Petra admits, looking down. “If I do not side with the Empire, they will destroy Brigid just like they destroyed Dagda. My country will be in ruins, my people enslaved. It was promised to me.” She looks sorrowful, broken by the threat and the distance from her country. Her hands tighten around the grip of her sword. “I cannot let that happen.”

Linhardt nods understandingly, Petra is proud of her country and she misses it deeply. He wonders if she’s been able to return since then. She wants to go home. “But if the Empire loses, what will you do then?” They’re on the verge of taking Enbarr. The western half of the Empire still remains, but King Lambert has already moved from Arianrhod to Castle Gaspard. They believe that when Count Bergliez, Caspar’s father, hears that Enbarr has fallen, he will surrender as well.

“I do not know,” Petra admits readily. Thankfully, they’re in an area where there isn’t much fighting. There are soldiers everywhere. At the very least, they get a moment to speak like this. Before they kill each other.

“Come with us,” Caspar pleads, lowering his axe completely. “Dimitri and Claude, they’ll welcome you, you know they will.” Petra was not their enemy. She was only fighting for the Empire because they threatened her home. They would understand. Besides, Petra would have been spared anyway, being the future Queen of Brigid. She should not die on the battlefield.

“I-,” Petra looks away, hearing the fighting in the distance. “Very well,” Petra says reluctantly. “I do not have a battalion to lead of my own,” she admits. “So to switch sides, it would be very easy.” She lowers her head. “I wish to make sure that the Empire does not know. So they cannot destroy Brigid.” She takes his hand as she leads him through the streets of Enbarr. At this point, she’s more familiar with the layout of the city, guiding him. Her hand is warm.

* * *

(31st Day of Garland Moon, 1186)

They’ve taken most of the city, but now Hubert waits at the palace gates. The palace looms even over the tallest parts of the city, it’s not hard to imagine Edelgard growing up there. When news of Petra’s defection spread across the coalition, Ferdinand decided to lead her back to Dorothea. If the Empire’s spies see Petra in their ranks, they could send an owl to their forces in the West, seeking Brigid’s destruction.

Also, it’s a precaution if Petra were to side with them but then turn against them, placing her in the heart of their forces. They know Petra and they trust Petra, but they need to be careful. This war is almost over. They cannot take any risks.

They march through the main road that leads to the palace. They know Hubert is waiting there, most likely with forces of his own.

But that isn’t what is happening. He is waiting there, but he’s by himself, looking frantically at the gates. It looks like he’s been locked out more than guarding the gates. He launches a Death Spell at the gates, intent on breaking through them. It almost rivals Lysithea’s in size but does little damage. He backs up, looking at the palace. Hubert showed little emotion during his time at Garreg Mach, but he actually might show fear right now.

Ferdinand is the first to approach him; despite their history, Ferdinand still remembers him fondly despite everything. “Hubert?” Ferdinand says calmly, stepping away from Annalise. Dimitri and Claude watch them warily, they don’t have the same fond memories of Hubert.

“Ferdinand,” Hubert breathes, almost relief coming over his face. It’s quickly overtaken by fear and concern when rumbling sounds throughout Enbarr. A sharp intake of breath and Hubert faces the palace walls once more. A fisted glove thumps against the gates. “They’re in there with her.” He swallows, one eye covered by his bangs, the other drifting to Dimitri in the background. “You have to save her.” A shriek emanates from the palace and the grounds begins to shake.

“Who are they?” Claude asks, curiously. He steps forward with Ayla and Failnaught in hand. He’s been watching Ferdinand and Hubert this entire time, and Hubert doesn’t seem to be afraid of them. He’s more concerned about what is going inside.

Hubert reaches for an inner pocket and all of them tense, waiting for him to move. He pulls out a letter and shoves it towards Claude’s chest. “I had other things in motion,” he says tersely, as Claude grabs the letter. “Read that a different time, if you would.” Hubert’s lip curls as he stares back at the gates. “There’s a Silence spell on that gate. No magic can break it.”

His hands fisted tightly in gloves. “Unfortunately, I didn’t continue my lance training after Garreg Mach.” Claude stares at him. Was that a joke Hubert just cracked? He couldn’t tell.

Dimitri steps forward, smashing Areadbhar through the thick gates. It’s impressive how strong Dimitri is, considering everything. He makes it look easy when it should have taken a small battering ram.

“She should be in the throne room,” Hubert expresses quickly as Dimitri peels away the wooden shards of the broken gate. He nods at Ferdinand, “it’s still in the same place.”

Claude looks at him awkwardly. “You’ll have to stay out here,” he says gingerly. Hubert gave him a letter, but until Claude read that letter, trusting Hubert would be a stretch.

To his surprise, Hubert nods, understanding. “Just protect her,” he mutters, his eyes casting forward towards the palace.“I’ll accept my punishment after she has been secured.”

* * *

(31st Day of Garland Moon, 1186)

In the main hall, they hear the roaring from a distance and the palace walls shake, but they press on. Ferdinand leads the main forces towards the throne room, familiar with the halls that he grew up in. If they weren’t in the middle of the war, they would admire it.

Tapestries cover wall to wall as windows allow the natural sunlight to shine through. It’s not hard to imagine Edelgard running through the hallways with her family.

This damn war is finally coming to an end. Hubert pleaded with them to save Edelgard, but what were they saving her from? The masked men in the palace? Hubert’s letter weighs heavily on him, tucked into his vest. There isn’t time to read the damn letter, even if it contains answers to this five-year long war. Glenn took custody of Hubert away from the palace. The city is being secured, now all that’s waiting is for the palace to fall.

It’s not just Edelgard in this palace but masked men….the same masked men from all those years ago. Were they still involved in the Empire? Claude researched the man who called himself Thales but never heard a trace of him, even amongst the small of merchant circles. Thales was still an enigma, but it seemed that his men were amongst Edelgard’s numbers.

Despite how formidable they were five years ago, under their trained and seasoned hands, the masked men fall under blades with ease. They aren’t the same people they were five years ago. It’s not the same. For months, the Empire had fought without surrender. When they realize they are outnumbered, they retreat. Something is afoot here, and Claude can’t put his finger on it.

He raises Failnaught, shooting enemy after enemy. Ferdinand mentioned that the throne room was in the heart of the palace, through many doors and walls. They follow Ferdinand’s lead as the palace here dwarfs the one in Derdriu with ease. If they didn’t have Ferdinand, they could have gotten lost easily in the maze of a palace.

Another earth-shattering roar sounds in the distance and the walls tremble. It almost sounded like a Demonic Beast, but he has not seen those in months. He heard in reports from the west that Demonic Beasts were often featured in the Empire’s forces, but he had not seen any in the east. They were not there at Gronder Field, the Great Bridge of Myrddin, or Fort Merceus. They were not seen as they were advancing towards Enbarr, with small skirmishes overtaking the Empire’s forces daily. What exactly was happening?

With a shout, Ferdinand guides them towards the largest set of doors Claude has ever seen. They rival the ones at Garreg Mach. It must be the throne room. When Edelgard falls, this war will finally be over.

The sight that greets them makes them falter in their steps. A large black creature sits on the throne, its wings spreading across the room. It’s Edelgard, she was transformed into a monster. What exactly was done to Edelgard? Was this what Hubert feared? Who did this to her?

But despite the thrashing and snarling, the Hegemon does little against them. There are more men in the room, but they seem more intent on escaping rather than defeating them. They slowly approach the Hegemon who stays floating above the throne.

It’s monstrous, and Marianne looks like she’s almost about to pass out from the sight of it. But because of how much she’s grown in courage and strength, she keeps moving forward with the rest of them.

Demonic Beasts break through the walls, forcing them to work in pairs. Despite all of their training, there are only a few amongst them who can handle Demonic Beasts one on one, Lysithea being one of them.

Dimitri and Claude slowly make their way up the stairs to the throne where the Hegemon waits with Areadbhar and Failnaught in hand. The Hegemon shrieks at the sight of them, causing them to duck and cover their ears, but still, she does nothing. What was Edelgard playing at?

Claude aims an arrow at her wings, looking to Dimitri for the signal. This was his former fiancee they were talking about. Dimitri should make the calls. Edelgard was just a former classmate.

Claude strikes one wing and then the other, bringing the Hegemon down with a loud crash, dust billowing in the air. But still, she does nothing. Long tendrils reach out for Dimitri and he can barely hear rasping in the air. “Facing you...I grow weak.”

He steps out of reach, raising Areadbhar high in the air to strike her down as he slices through her body, her wings already crumpled because of well-placed arrows from Failnaught.

The Hegemon disappears in a black puff of smoke, leaving the broken body of Edelgard von Hresvelg on the ground. Her eyes are swollen and tired as she stares up at the figures of Dimitri and Claude. She says nothing as her eyes droop downwards.

Claude stares at the red figure of Edelgard. She’s been more of a myth than an actual being in this war, operating in the shadows and from afar. But up close, he realizes how small she really is. Then he notices the chains. They connect her to the throne, clasped around her ankles and wrists, weighing heavily on her. He thinks there’s a collar around her neck.

“Your path... lies across my grave. It is time for you to find the courage to walk it.” Edelgard mumbles, her light purple eyes meeting Dimitri’s, fearlessly as she waits for the final blow. “All across Fodlan, war continues on. You must end this.” Her head sways from exhaustion, as her gloved hands dig into the floor. She can barely keep her body upright. All around them, the fighting is ending soon. If Dimitri doesn’t strike her down now, they will have an audience, and that’s the last thing Claude wants for Dimitri, to have people watching him kill Edelgard. Neither of them deserves that.

Dimitri says nothing but raises Areadbhar. Edelgard lowers her head, closing her eyes, murmuring words underneath her breath. He brings it back down, slashing through the chains that bound Edelgard to the throne.

“No,” Edelgard screams, looking at Dimitri who doesn’t look at her or Claude. “Dimitri- you can’t!” Dimitri ignores her, using the butt of Areadbhar at the back of her head to knock her unconscious. He continues, breaking Edelgard’s chains wordlessly. Claude watches him; even if he tried to stop him, his blows would probably bounce right off him.

He lifts her, taking into his arms, her head lolling against his chest. He carries her away, down the steps of the throne room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mercedes kills Jeritza/Emile/Death Knight. Because you're not playing 3H right if you don't have family members killing each other. 
> 
> Petra eventually sides with the coalition once she realizes that the Empire is losing. She has no real loyalty to the Empire at this point. Edelgard's virtually a stranger to her so there isn't much of a bond between the two at this point. Dorothea doesn't fight on either side because she doesn't trust Dimitri or Claude and she doesn't know what Edelgard is up to. 
> 
> I'm taking another two week break before Part 4, just to catch up on some editing and adding some scenes. I'm also moving my update days to Monday because I need sleep. 
> 
> Critiques and Comments are always appreciated. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	27. Part IV Chapter I

* * *

(3rd Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1186)

Edelgard sleeps for three days, recovering from her transformation. Mercedes cares for her, looking after her and healing as she needs it. Remarkably as Mercedes describes, her injuries are not life-threatening but her transformation placed her body under an enormous amount of stress. 

The city of Enbarr recovers. Dimitri and Claude stamp out any threats of looting as they make sure that when the citizens of Enbarr return, they will return to an intact home. At the very least, it should placate them towards their conquerors. 

More pressing, however, is the letter Hubert shoved at Claude. They’ve read the letter. He’s under house arrest in a private room. He’s guarded by two of their generals at once. They can’t trust him otherwise. He offered to comply once he heard Edelgard was safe. He just wanted to see her. He won’t talk about the contents of the letter otherwise. It’s a problem.

The letter speaks further on the organization that Solon and Kronya were working with. He’s named them this ridiculously long name,  _ Those who Slither in the Dark _ , a little dramatic. But Hubert refused to say more on the matter. He names Thales as Lord Arundel, Edelgard’s uncle who served as regent. The man that they saw in the Holy Tomb all those years ago. 

Speaking of Lord Arundel, he is nowhere to be found in the palace. Ferdinand knows him, Lord Arundel worked closely with his father for over a decade. But Hubert makes it clear that Thales took on Arundel’s appearance. Just like Solon took on Tomas’s and Kronya took on Monica’s. 

He remembers Lord Arundel, how his stepmother doted on him, and how he doted on El. He visited the palace in Fhirdiad a few times, and El was always delighted to see him. 

Seteth says little, scouring the palace for any sign of Lady Rhea. They’ve checked the entire dungeon but find nothing. Hubert won’t say anything until Edelgard wakes up from her sleep. He knows something, but he still remains tight-lipped.

Dimitri spends his time by Edelgard’s bedside, his eyes never leaving her face. He waits for her to wake up. The other Blue Lions come and bring his meals, but he leaves them untouched. Dimitri doesn’t forget that Edelgard pleaded for them to kill her. Areadbhar is by his side, but he won’t let it touch her skin again.

He wrote a letter to his father about their victory. Now he waits for news from the western front. It won’t take long for news of the Empire’s defeat to travel across Fodlan. He hopes that the news will bring the end of the war. 

Her eyelids flutter as she slowly begins to wake. While her limbs are stiff, Mercedes makes sure that anything but disuse had been cured. He stands up and calls for Claude, but his eyes never leave her. 

Edelgard’s eyes wander around the room tiredly and her gaze catches Dimitri’s before her eyes dart away. “You should have killed me,” Edelgard rasps, her voice rough from disuse. They shackled her to the bed. It was the one concession that Claude demanded from Dimitri.

Covered by the sheet, she looks small and weak as her hair shrouds her shoulders. The white hair suits her, but it’s also another question for them to ask. Edelgard murmurs, “You could have ended this war.”

“Glad to see you too, Edelgard,” Claude responds. As he enters the room, he pulls a chair next to her bed. He’s spent most of his time roaming around the palace. Lysithea has spent her time in the library. Its size even dwarfs Garreg Mach. 

Edelgard’s gaze drifts towards him, exhausted. They haven’t seen each other since the Millenium Festival. The war ended faster than expected. But they were also aggressive in their approach. “So, who is TWSiTD?” Claude shortens the lengthy name into a quick acronym. It made everyone’s life easier. “Who are they?

“TWSiTD is the group to which Kronya, Solon, and Thales belong,” Edelgard replies, pushing herself up so she can lean against the backboard. She meets their eyes as her hands firmly support herself against the bed. They’re in a small side room that was easily accessible but also hidden. “I know very little about them.” 

“They’ve been in the Empire for years, if not decades,” Edelgard explains softly, her hands clasped in her lap. “I don’t know where their influence begins or ends. I don’t know where their bases are, and I don’t know who their agents were either. I believe I’m not very much help.” She tilts her head, resting it on her shoulder, strands of hair brushing against her lap. She stares at them wryly, “Hubert would have known more,” she murmurs, looking down at her hands. 

“Hubert hasn’t said much,” Dimitri answers, watching her. Hubert said very little since they detained him. He’s in another part of the palace under the constant watch of their classmates. They know Hubert and what he is capable of. Thankfully, he has made no attempts at escape, which they are aware that he could do very easily. 

Her head snaps back up. “Hubert lives?” Edelgard croaks out, her throat dry. Her hands flatten against her side, the manacles rattling with effort. “Where is he?” 

Interesting. “You thought we’d kill him?” Claude asks curiously, watching her every move. They’ve dressed her in a simple white dress, one that allowed Mercedes to move with ease as she treated her wounds.

The plan had been to kill Hubert but when he had so clearly given them instructions on how to find Edelgard, pleading with them to save her- well, it became clear that something else was going on behind the scenes and that it would be best to have someone on the inside tell them what was going on. Claude didn’t expect that they would save them both, however. 

Edelgard stares coldly. “I wasn’t sure what to think,” Edelgard bites harshly, “I wasn’t expecting to be alive either.” Her gaze drills into Dimitri. She knows that it was Dimitri who saved her and not anyone else. Truth be told, Claude had been ready to take her life. It would be necessary after five and a half years of war. 

The Alliance nobles would not be happy. He’d bet that the Kingdom nobles would not be happy either. But this was Dimitri’s decision, and he wasn’t going to fight him on it. They were allies, but Dimitri could also snap him like a skinny twig. He wasn’t going to push his luck. 

“May I see Hubert?” Edelgard asks, her hands folded in her lap. There are scars from her elbow up and got worse on her torso and chest. They can’t be sure if it was Hubert or this TWSiTD group that inflicted them on her. Mercedes noticed it first thing when she examined her body. She reported it to them immediately. Something had been done to her. Would she tell them what happened to her?

He glances at Dimitri, waiting. It would be a simple order for them to call on Hubert. Felix and Sylvain are on watch over Hubert right now. Ferdinand is searching the palace with Seteth, Flayn, Catherine, and Cyril for Rhea with little luck. Maybe Edelgard or Hubert would give them a lead on her location.

“Sure,” Claude answers easily when Dimitri doesn’t respond as his fists are clenched beside his legs. Maybe the two of them will answer their questions when they see each other. “So Thales, who was he?” He opens the door to signal to the guard to fetch Hubert with Sylvain and Felix. At least they can use this time to ask her more questions.

“He was my uncle,” Edelgard answers, her head looking away. “He pretended to be my uncle.” Her hands clutch at her blanket in her lap as she glances back at the both of them. “He didn’t even try to hide it,” she says with a laugh and a toss of her hair. “Rhea called them the Agarthans,” she breathes.

Claude’s head jerks up. “Rhea?” He asks, looking up. In the past six years, there has been no sign of Rhea since the fall of Garreg Mach. Edelgard talked to her as if they were familiar. “Where is she?”

Edelgard tilts her head at them, confused. “Has Hubert not shown you where she is?” She makes a small tsking noise with her mouth, frowning. “He has always been so stubborn.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know where her exact location is, but I know she’s alive,” she confirms confidently. “They kept us together for a time.”

Cyril and the others would be pleased to hear that. “They kept you together?” Claude asks curiously, sitting down in the chair next to her. Ferdinand hadn’t been aware of Edelgard’s presence in the palace. Perhaps she could shed some light as to why. 

“In the dungeons,” Edelgard confirms, the chain rattling as she pushes a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I don’t know where they kept us exactly, but she’s inside the palace.” She chews her lip as she stares at the manacles that keep her captive.

Claude has so many questions, but Edelgard is looking like she’s about to pass out. It might be best to leave his questions for another time. But it’s promising that she’s answering his questions without much fight. Even from their brief conversation, she already looks exhausted. She rests her back against the pillow, waiting for Hubert.

“So what happened?” Claude says, looking at her. Despite her strength, Edelgard looks thinner than before, her wrists leading to scarred arms. What exactly did they do to her?

Edelgard shrugs, her gaze looking distant. “I was taken back to Enbarr with Lady Rhea. They kept us in the dungeons. But when my father passed, they wanted to crown me Emperor instead of Ferdinand. I said I wouldn’t do it until Aegir, Vestra, and Varley were removed.” Her fingers twist in her lap, the thin blanket covering her scarred thighs. “So they did.”

“Why specifically you?” Dimitri asks, his first words since he called for Claude. “Why wasn’t it Ferdinand?” He watches her but does not take a step forward, leaning against the wall. It was strange, the way Edelgard said it, it sounded as if she had a choice of becoming Emperor. 

“I was what they needed.”

* * *

(3rd Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1186)

Ferdinand rejoins Felix and Sylvain on guard duty after another fruitless search for Lady Rhea with Seteth and the others. He knew the palace was huge, having grown up there for half his life. But even then, it was taking days to search through the rooms and dungeons. There was still no sign of her, and he was losing hope.

When he gets there, Felix and Sylvain are grimly taking Hubert out of his confinement. They’ve kept him there isolated, for the past three days and yet, Hubert looks no worse for wear. He almost looks bored. His hair is shorter but still covers his eye as it grazes his prominent cheekbones.

He stops in his tracks, watching them take Hubert from the room. It had been over two years since he last saw Hubert. He had rushed Ferdinand out of the palace, Emperor Ionius was ill the past few months. His father was preparing for his coronation, but not all was well in the palace. His father was worried about something, someone.

Thinking back to it, it may have been Edelgard. He still doesn’t know where they were keeping her. He never saw her in the palace, not a glimpse nor a trace. He saw Petra, Hubert, and Dorothea often enough but never Edelgard. She had been the girl he had grown up with, following her footsteps around the palace.

Shaking his head, he walks up to the three of them just as Felix secures Hubert’s handcuffs. “Where are you taking him?” He asks them politely. Hubert avoids his gaze. He’s been doing that since he saw him at the gates in front of the palace.

Sylvain coughs. “Edelgard is awake, she wants to see him.” Ferdinand blinks, surprised. Edelgard had been recovering for three days after whatever had been done to her. “Any luck finding Rhea?” Sylvain says back, leading Hubert up the stairs to Edelgard’s quarters.

Ferdinand walks in step with them. “No,” he says, resigned. The palace in Enbarr was a magnificent palace of his youth, but it was extremely large. He would have thought Lady Rhea was being kept in the dungeons, but she was not there, much to Seteth’s disappointment.

“I know where she is,” Hubert murmurs, his hands bound by the handcuffs. “Once I see Lady Edelgard, I will show you where she is.” The tall specter of his youth remains formidable as ever. Hubert led him out of the palace to Annalise so he could run to Aegir, never seeing his father again.

Ferdinand sighs, running a hand through his hair. Even if he asked, Hubert would insist on seeing Edelgard before he revealed Lady Rhea’s location. “Let’s go then.”

A small brown girl tackles Hubert to the ground with another boy following behind. He falls backward, unable to cushion his fall. “Uncle Hubie!” They came out of nowhere, flying through the hallway. Ferdinand certainly didn’t see them coming.

“Alexandria! Edward!” A young woman with her hair bound in twin plaits follows closely behind. She stops at the sight of them, her hands clench into her dress.

Hubert groans with two young children on top of him. He doesn’t seem surprised by them, just in pain. They get off him and finally, Ferdinand can have a better look at the two of them.

They’re young and small, it’s a boy and a girl. The girl has long light brown hair that she sweeps up into a high side ponytail while the boy has short blond hair. His breath catches when he sees their eyes, they’re familiar.

He gapes at Hubert, who sits up with the children in his lap. The man is actually smiling. It’s a faint smile, but it’s there.

“Alexandria, Edward,” he greets softly as the children cling to his coat. “How are you doing?” He maneuvers his way to stand up but crouches down so he can speak with the young children.

“We’re doing fine, Uncle Hubie,” the girl- Alexandria chirps cheerfully. “Miss Fleche showed us the pastures at the farm. With all the animals!” She mentions staring at the tall man.

She frowns, looking at the manacles that bind his hands. She sticks her tongue out and promptly breaks them with a snap. A Crest flashes in the background. Sylvain and Felix stare, they know that Crest. They stare down at the children, their mouths agape.

“Have you seen Mama?” The boy- Edward asks softly, looking at Hubert with adoration in his eyes. They’re a light purple and Ferdinand feels like choking.

“I haven’t,” Hubert says softly to the boy who holds his hand. “But these men were going to show me where she was,” he gestures to them. Sylvain plasters a smile on while Felix can’t stop staring. Ferdinand can’t stop looking at both of them. He wasn’t expecting this.

Alexandria tilts her head, her long ponytail drifting to the side. “Mama isn’t awake yet?” She asks curiously. “But it’s already 9!” She takes Hubert’s other hand, dragging him forward. “We gotta wake her up!”

She stops, looking at them with Hubert twisting his neck as well. “Where is she again? Is she in her room?” Her bright blue eyes look them down curiously. Ferdinand feels like choking.

The boy- Edward- motions for Hubert to pick him. To everyone’s surprise, Hubert does so, leaning the young boy against his hip. He looks practiced at this. Ferdinand can’t stop staring.

“Alexandria,” Hubert admonishes lightly, shifting Edward around. “You should introduce yourself,” he murmurs. “Like your mother taught you.”

Alexandria pouts for a few seconds and glances at her brother, who gives her a knowing look. She curtsies, tilting her head. “My name is Alexandria Von Hresvelg,” she looks back up, her blue eyes casting upward. “This is my brother, Edward Von Hresvelg.”

* * *

(3rd Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1186)

Dimitri lets Claude do all the talking. He’s always been better at that. But he can’t stop staring at El- Edelgard. He can’t believe that she’s real, that she is here. He was so afraid that he would never see her again and all he wants to do is hold her hand and hug her.

But she looks on edge, her hands fisted into the blankets. She always looked alert, even when they were younger in Fhirdiad. But this was different. It was like she was being hunted.

The door slams open, and a brown-haired girl tackles Edelgard, knocking her against the bed. She doesn’t seem surprised as the young girl stares at her eagerly in her lap. “Mama!”

Dimitri chokes as Hubert steps in with a young boy with blond hair balanced against his hip. His eyes scan the room carefully before dropping the young boy onto the floor. The boy runs over to Edelgard’s bed, pushing himself onto the bed. He hugs her other side, his legs dangling over the bedside.

Edelgard freezes, running her hands through their hair, tousling it. She closes her eyes as she breathes in. “Sweetling,” she murmurs gently, her eyes catching Hubert. “Has it already been three days?”

The young girl nods, shifting her weight in Edelgard’s lap. “We got to see the horses, mama! They’re so pretty!” She looks back at the people entering the room- Ferdinand, Felix, and Sylvain. There’s another young woman with them whose hair is neatly plaited.

Dimitri’s breath catches, her eyes are the same shade of blue as his. He stares at Edelgard, his gaze boring holes into her. She avoids it, preferring to look over the other child, the boy. She presses a light kiss to his forehead, and he leans, crawling into her lap.

“My apologies, Lady Edelgard,” the young woman murmurs, looking over the scene. She keeps her hands behind her back, standing in the doorway. “They were excited to see you.”

“It’s fine, Fleche,” Edelgard commands softly. “Thank you for looking after them, did they behave?” She presses another kiss to the girl’s forehead, who squirms under her touch.

“Yes, your majesty,” Fleche nods. “They were well-behaved.” She avoids Claude’s curious gaze. She seems familiar, but Dimitri can’t place her.

“We got to feed the horses!” The girl cries out excitedly. “Their teeth are weird,” she frowns, looking at Edelgard. She pulls out her ponytail, letting her long brown hair drift down to her back.

“That’s how horses’ teeth are, Alexandria,” Edelgard chides, smoothing out the girl’s hair. “It’s not weird for them.” She looks at the boy, “Did you have a good time, Edward?” She asks him pointedly. The young boy leans against her, resting against her side.

Edward nods, silently. He looks at everyone in the room before responding, “Missed you, mama,” he says quietly. His hand grasps for hers, clasping it.

Alexandria frowns again, noticing the manacles around Edelgard’s wrists. She sticks out her tongue and breaks them easily with a snap of her hands. The Crest of Blaiddyd flashes through the room. Dimitri can’t breathe. She leans over and with another flash of her crest, both handcuffs have been broken in an instant.

“Alexandria!” Edelgard admonishes as she looks at her. “You’re not supposed to be doing that.” But she pulls them closer, wrapping an arm around each of their waists, pulling them into her lap.

“But why?” Alexandria protests, squirming away. She pushes off, landing on the ground with a soft thud. “Uncle Hubie didn’t say anything.” She runs over to the tall dark man and the room feels very crowded suddenly.

“Uncle Hubie?” Claude chokes under his breath. Edward glances at him, crawling into Edelgard’s lap, where he sits comfortably. He stares at Dimitri, his light purple eyes boring into him. He latches onto Edelgard’s arm, resting his chin on her shoulder.

Dimitri notices the broken handcuffs on either arm of Hubert’s wrist. His chest gets tight. Even at seven years old, Dimitri didn’t have that kind of control over the Crest of Blaiddyd.

Alexandria reaches up for Hubert, her hands barely reaching his arms. He sighs, picking her up. Dimitri’s hands twitch by his side. She buries her head into his shoulder, sighing contentedly. He brings her over to the side of Edelgard’s bed, depositing her back onto the bed. She doesn’t let him go, gripping his hand.

Edward’s stomach gurgles. Everyone looks at it. “Have you eaten yet?” Edelgard asks both of them, casting her gaze over at Fleche, who shakes her head.

“They wanted to see you first, Lady Edelgard,” Fleche explains, remaining at the doorway. “I was going to take them to the kitchens, but they wished to see you.” Her hands clench into her apron as Edelgard remains silent.

“Take them to the kitchens, will you?” Edelgard asks quietly. “They should have something to eat.” She keeps avoiding Dimitri’s eyes. He has questions, so many questions.

Alexandria protests, but Edelgard quells her with a single look. “Go get some fruit to eat.” Edelgard suggests lightly, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Please, for me.”

Edward crawls over Edelgard’s legs and takes his sister’s hand, giving her a look. Alexandria sighs, and they jump off the bed together, holding hands. “Can Uncle Hubie come?” She pleads, looking up at the aforementioned Uncle Hubie. He doesn’t even twitch when they use the nickname.

“Of course,” Edelgard answers, squeezing her hand. She looks expectantly at Hubert, who sighs. They leave with everyone else in tow, Ferdinand, Felix, and Sylvain looking nervously. They hadn’t said a single word during the whole encounter.

Claude exhales as the door closes behind them. Edelgard remains silent, avoiding both of their eyes. Dimitri knows who they are, but he needs Edelgard to say something, anything. “How old are they?”

“Four and a half,” Edelgard replies, “They were born on the Ethereal Moon, on your birthday, actually.” She admits softly, finally meeting Dimitri’s eyes calmly.

He swallows, his throat dry as sand. He looks at the door where they left. Do they know who he is to them? He braces himself against the wall and Edelgard’s gaze turns away.

“They’re good kids,” Edelgard murmurs under her breath, her hands are clenched in the blanket as if she’s waiting for a reaction from someone.

Claude looks between them both. “They seem like good kids,” Claude says hesitantly, still sitting in his chair. “Uncle Hubie, though?” He teases lightly, crossing his legs.

“I didn’t start it,” Edelgard looks away with a small laugh. “They just picked it up and neither of us had the heart to tell them to stop.” She folds her hands into her lap. “What happens now?” Her shoulders drop as she stares down.

“Western Adrestia needs to fall,” Claude states quickly, looking at her. “We haven’t made an announcement about you or Hubert, but your people are still fighting.” Dimitri hasn’t written to his father yet and nor has he heard any word from the western side of the Empire. However, Claude predicted that if the Empire heard that Edelgard still lived, they would keep fighting.

Edelgard pushes back a lock of white hair that fell behind her ear. She chews her lip, “If TWSiTD knows I’m alive, it could make things more difficult for you. They fled the palace after you broke through Enbarr’s walls. I assume they left Rhea here in the dungeons.”

“Ferdinand’s already searched the dungeons,” Claude protests automatically. Ferdinand had spent two very long days there with the Knights of Seiros. They didn’t have any luck.

“Enbarr is a city that has existed for more than a thousand years,” Edelgard responds, leaning against the back of her bed. “There’s another floor underneath the dungeons, deep in the palace. That is where they kept us. When Hubert gets back, he will show you where.”

“So you were pregnant,” Claude pushes, leaning forward. “What happened after that?” His knees brush against Edelgard’s bed as he waits for her response.

“They took my children away,” Edelgard snarls, her hands making angry fists on the bed. “They would not give them back until I promised to serve them.” She shakes her head, clenching her jaw as her lips tighten until they are thin and pale.

* * *

(3rd Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1186)

Sylvain never lets the kids out of his sight. To be fair, Felix or Ferdinand did either. Hubert’s carrying Edward again while Alexandria holds his hand, swinging her way down to the kitchens. She’s babbling about all the cute animals they saw at the farm. Their governess, Fleche, walks a little behind them as if this is an everyday occurrence. Of all the things Sylvain expected, kids weren’t on that list.

The kitchen is in another part of the palace. Hubert leads the way silently as they walk through the many halls. There are so many rooms here; he thought the palace in Fhirdiad was large. It doesn’t even compare to here. No wonder it’s taking so long for the Knights of Seiros to search for Rhea.

In the days since the city fell under their control, they’ve kept to the palace. The city streets were not destroyed, however a lot of people needed to be healed. It’s kept everyone busy as they help with the city’s recovery.

During the battle, he stayed close to the other Blue Lions, not letting them out of his sight. They were so close to the war ending, it would have been a shame if any of them fell here. Mercedes stayed in the center, healing anyone who needed it. Dedue and Ingrid took the skies, taking down pegasus or wyvern riders they ran into.

Felix and Annette were on the ground, working in tandem with Annette’s magic and Felix’s sword. The two of them made a good team. He and Ashe kept the streets clear with their cavalry. But it was worth it.

Enbarr was captured. Edelgard lived. When he had first heard that Dimitri spared her, Sylvain almost laughed. He should have laughed. Not out of surprise or ridicule, but something else.

Mercedes had a strange look on her face when she saw Dimitri carrying Edelgard away in his arms. Sylvain didn’t want to ask her what it was. He didn’t want to hear her answer.

If Sylvain thought Dimitri was repressed at the monastery, the way he treated Mercedes was doubly so. He didn’t mistreat her, but with El, he was always touching some part of her. With Mercedes, there were simple platitudes but no real affection.

When they enter the kitchen, it is massive. It made sense. It had to be big enough to feed the entire palace. The children seem used to it, heading towards a basket of fresh fruit. They pick up several apples, bringing them over for Hubert for examination.

He can hear the clanging of pans in the background and Raphael’s deep voice. It must have been Bernadetta and Raphael back there, making breakfast.

“Is this not too much fruit?” Hubert asks quietly, kneeling as he spoke with the children. They chose three sizeable apples, a surprising breakfast for kids that young. They shake their heads eagerly.

“One is for mama,” Alexandria points out, her long brown hair bobbing. “She should have one to eat too.” Edward nods with her, holding one of them between his hands. “Can you grab the knife, Uncle Hubie, since we’re not allowed to grab them yet?”

Hubert glances at Ferdinand expectantly. Sylvain steps in. Hubert probably wouldn’t do anything to hurt these kids, but it’s not best for the soldiers to see Hubert wielding even a simple fruit knife. “I got it,” Sylvain says smoothly, looking around. There are a lot of drawers in this kitchen.

He slides one open, looking through them. Fleche walks over to another drawer and opens it silently, handing him the simple knife. “There are many kitchens in the palace,” she explains gently as he takes the knife. “This is one of the bigger ones, but everything has its place.”

“Should we eat here?” Felix asks awkwardly, still not looking at the kids. He’s been quiet this entire time, ever since the children threw themselves at Hubert.

Edward shakes his head, but Alexandria answers. “We want to eat with mama,” she says, holding up the two apples. “Is that okay, Miss Fleche?” She looks to her for approval. Fleche’s eyes flicker to Hubert’s expectantly and he nods, reluctantly.

“Let’s go back to Edelgard then,” Sylvain smiles. He hopes that neither of them are crying when they come back.

When they head back, he spots Edward looking at him strangely. Sylvain smiles back and waggles his fingers. He doesn’t have too much experience with kids, thank the goddess, but that should work, right?

Edward looks away immediately, running towards Hubert’s side, still holding the apple. That stings a little. With a tug on his sleeve, Hubert lifts him into his arms and carries him back to Edelgard’s room.

When they get back to the room, no one is crying. But the room feels tense. Edelgard’s face is lined with worry that immediately brightens when she sees her kids. Dimitri remains stone-faced, which is fair, given the discovery of his newfound paternity.

The kids hand the three apples over to Edelgard, beaming. Surprisingly, no apples were dropped when they were walking.

Alexandria immediately crawls back onto the bed, putting the two apples down by Edelgard’s legs first. Edward remains on the ground, still holding Hubert’s hand. He hands the other apple to Alexandria, who plops it onto the bed. He hoists himself onto the bed, kicking his legs patiently.

Sylvain freezes; he has the knife, but he isn’t sure who to give it to. He’s not the best apple peeler by nature, and the kid already doesn’t seem to like him. Dimitri would probably bend the knife right, he’s so stressed. And Felix still looks like he swallowed a sour lemon.

Edward and Alexandria look at him expectantly with the knife in hand. He’s seen that look before. Sylvain can almost see Alexandria raising an eyebrow. Edelgard sighs, holding a hand out for the knife. The two of them share looks and he hands the knife over.

“Are you sure this isn’t too many apples?” Edelgard asks the children, looking at the three apples next to her legs. “I’m not very hungry this morning so if we can’t finish them….”

Alexandria shakes her head quickly. “It’s not mama, I promise!” She sticks up her upper lip, pleadingly. Dimitri chokes, looking at her beg with Edelgard. Edward swings his legs off the bed, waiting for his mother to prepare their breakfast.

Edelgard shakes her head softly and cuts through the apple, dividing it into eight sections. She removes the core, tossing into the bin beside her bed. Fleche hands Edelgard a metal plate to rest the cut apples on. She lightly scores the apple, cutting underneath its flesh, removing a triangle of apple skin. She doesn’t remove all the skin, allowing the apple skin to raise.

Claude stares, “Are those…?”

“They’re bunny ears,” Alexandria responds cheerfully, handing the first apple slice over to Edward. Sylvain can almost hear her finish that sentence with an insult. Edelgard remains silent, repeating the process with the rest of the apples.

She grabs a piece on the place, chewing on it carefully. Dimitri can’t stop staring at the scene in front of him.

Edelgard finishes the rest of the apples, taking a slice for herself. She eats it gingerly, still resting against the bed. There are bags underneath her eyes where they weren’t before.

Alexandria and Edward eat the lion’s share of the apple slices like they said they would until there is one left. They both look at it and then at Edelgard.

“I’m too full,” Edward whispers to his sister. Surprisingly, they ate the slices with little complaint. But this last one gave them trouble.

“Me too,” Alexandria says regretfully, looking at the metal plate. They both look at Edelgard, who raises a thin white eyebrow. She shakes her head. Dimitri hasn’t taken his eyes off them the entire time.

Alexandria looks around at the rest of them with the apple slice in hand. She walks it over to Dimitri, holding it up in front of her. “Do you want it, mister? You look kind of hungry.”

* * *

(3rd Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1186)

Lysithea has been reading all the books Enbarr has to offer. Most of these books, she's only read vague summaries. She’s looking for information on the group that Hubert called Those who Slither in the Dark. A dramatic name but Hubert was always a dramatic person.

She saw Edelgard’s hair and what they did to her. The Hegemon haunted her dreams for a few days. Lysithea thinks that the group Edelgard was working with was the one who experimented on her and her house.

But there’s nothing in these damn bookshelves. Or nothing that stands out. It might take her years to read everything in this library. And she doesn’t have years.

“Lysithea?” Cyril’s voice rings throughout the library. The librarians most likely fled when the coalition marched on Enbarr, so it’s just her and a couple of other people here. She scrolls up the parchment she was using to take notes and places into her pack.

She spends most of her day here. She doesn’t stay until dark, though, usually seeking out the others for the night. There are many rooms in the palace, but Lysithea has stayed close to the others. She hasn’t heard if Edelgard has woken up yet.

She walks down the steps to the first floor where Cyril is waiting. He has been with Seteth and the others as they search for Rhea in the dungeons. She’s heard that they haven’t had much luck. Hopefully, Hubert will break and show them where Rhea is being kept. But given his current disposition, Lysithea doesn’t see that happening soon.

“No luck?” Lysithea asks when she sees him. Cyril’s hope of finding Rhea has grown dimmer and dimmer as the hours pass. Despite the palace’s size, there has been no sign of Rhea. Any knowledge on her location may rest with Hubert or Edelgard.

Cyril shakes his head, discouraged. “I didn’t realize places could be as big as this,” he says quietly. “I thought Garreg Mach was as big as it could ever get.”

Enbarr was one of the oldest cities in Fodlan. It was founded even before the Empire was founded. It has had time to grow old. “I’m sure she’s somewhere,” Lysithea says encouragingly, nudging him with her shoulder. “There must be other parts of the palace that you haven’t searched.”

Cyril shrugs but answers, “Hopefully we find her soon.” When they pass the room where Edelgard is being kept, Ferdinand along with Felix, Sylvain, and Hubert exit the room. She can sense Cyril stiffening at the sight of Hubert, his hands clenched into fists. He doesn’t say anything, but he keeps eyes fixed on Hubert.

Ferdinand brightens at the sight of them, walking over quickly. “Good news,” Ferdinand says, his voice quiet. “Hubert knows where Lady Rhea is and will show us where she’s being held.” They both look at him as he waits languidly with Sylvain and Felix.

“He’s going to show us where she’s being held?” Cyril interrupts, his voice rising. Lysithea tugs at his sleeve with a look. She knows he’s excited, but Hubert and Edelgard’s survival is being kept a secret at this point from the rest of the coalition. The Alliance nobles won’t be happy with their survival. But no one wants to take Dimitri on.

“Gather your weapons,” Hubert drawls softly. “Because where we are going, it won’t be a pleasant journey.” Lysithea can see the manacles on him are broken, the chain dangling on each cuff. She peeks through the doorway, spotting a slumbering Edelgard...with two children curled next to her on the bed.

She shoots Claude a look as Dimitri sits on the chair, watching them sleep. Like he has spent the past three days doing so. She jerks her head for Claude to walk over.

Claude closes the door behind them, shaking his head. “Are those children?” Lysithea hisses. “Whose children are they?” The shade of brown and blond are very familiar and she has a sinking feeling in her stomach.

“As if you don’t know,” Claude hisses back, looking back at the room. Lysithea takes a step back. Dimitri was the one who made the call on Edelgard and Hubert. The Alliance might start calling into question Dimitri’s judgment if Edelgard’s children are revealed to be his.

He runs a gloved hand through his hair, stressed. He sighs with the door behind him. “Go with them, will you?” He nods towards Ferdinand and the others. “According to Hubert, they’re going to need you.”

“You’re not coming?” Cyril asks, surprised. He was just looking through the doorway as well, spotting Edelgard’s children. They look like twins.

Claude shakes his head. “I’ve got questions for Edelgard. She’s resting right now, but she’s in the right mood to answer them.” He looks back at the door and then back at Lysithea. “You probably have questions for her too.” Lysithea stiffens.

She hasn’t told anyone about what might bind her to Edelgard. But Claude’s already figured it out with one look. He glances between the two of them. “Good luck, you two.” He slips back into the door, back into the room.

Cyril and Lysithea look at each other before Lysithea shakes her head. It’s hard to know what goes on in Claude’s head sometimes. She isn’t sure that Claude even knows himself.

They round up the others, Hubert warns them that they need to travel in a small group and any mounts are not advised. The place they are going is in tight corners so that means Dedue and Raphael are out. Marianne chooses to stay topside as well; she’s doing better, but dark places still aren’t the best for her. Ignatz and Bernadetta stay behind - because, while they’re braver than they were at the monastery, Hubert’s dark expression means that where they are going is awful.

Others stay behind too- they can’t send all of their generals into a dark and damp dungeon. They put handcuffs on Hubert again, removing the broken ones from his wrist. Those are magic suppressing handcuffs so Hubert can’t use any Dark magic.

Hubert brings them down to the dungeons, already dark and creepy by themselves. There isn’t any natural sunlight down there. He nods at the wall. “If you would, Lysithea. It needs Dark magic to activate.”

“Any Dark magic?” Lysithea asks, raising her hands to form the runes. To her, it’s just some normal wall. But Hubert is the only one who knows where they are going.

“Preferably something small,” Hubert notes, quietly. “The entrance can be quite temperamental.” He stands back with the others as Lysithea prepares the runes for a Miasma spell.

When the Miasma spell strikes the wall, it melts away, revealing an entrance into the depths.

“What is that smell?” Ashe asks, holding a hand up to his nose. A shiver runs through Lysithea. She can’t place it, but she’s familiar with this stench. It’s of death, rotting away in the depths.

“I didn’t say that it would be pleasant.” Hubert murmurs, leading the way down the stairs. They brought torches with them, but it is so very dark underneath.

They bring the weapons down. Hubert wouldn’t say what was waiting down there for them. There were enough of them that if this was a trap, they would be strong enough to defeat them. But the darkness did not bode well for anybody.

The smell grows stronger as they go in deeper. All of them either have a cloth tied around their face or a sleeve covering their nose. Only Hubert is unaffected, strolling further into the darkness with Ferdinand by his side.

“I never knew this was down here,” Ferdinand murmurs quietly, looking down the long hallway. Cells sit on both sides filled with skeletons hanging on the walls and crumpled on the ground. Just what are they walking into?

“Your father did his best to keep his secrets from you,” Hubert responds, looking down the long hallway. There isn’t any sign of the creatures that Hubert mentioned, but still, they keep their guards up. “My father did his best to expose them to me at a young age.”

They continue downward, following the steps. It is dark and damp in this dungeon, and Lysithea represses a shiver. She was young when she had her crests implanted and she doesn’t remember anything. But being down here brings more impressions than memories.

She reaches for Cyril’s hand, trembling. She’s grown up, and she’s not afraid of ghosts. But she might be afraid of what lingers down here. Cyril smiles at her as they lace their fingers together. He brought a bow down here, but she isn’t sure how much help it will be if he can’t see where he’s shooting at. An axe does swing at his side, though.

They hear roaring in the distance. Demonic Beasts are on the prowl. Regretfully, Lysithea pulls her hand away, preparing the runes for a Seraphim spell at her fingertips.

* * *

(3rd Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1186)

Raphael had stared for at least three minutes when he saw the kitchen floor. It was expansive and impressive. The kitchen was probably as big as the greenhouse at Garreg Mach, and this was only one of three kitchens in the palace. 

Bernadetta didn’t get to spend much time in the kitchens in Enbarr because her father always said that it wasn’t  _ proper _ for someone like her to be there. Well, here she was, and she was going to be baking bread. 

It’s a nice stress reliever for her, one that Mercedes introduced to her during their time at Garreg Mach. Being able to knead bread and work with her hands helped calm her down. 

Being at Enbarr hasn’t helped. Even though she knows her father is under house arrest in Varley, she keeps thinking that she’ll spot him around the corner. She thinks that she could stand up to him by now. But there’s always this small part of her that reminds her that she’s a coward and is pitiful. 

There’s a reason why Raphael had to stay close to her. Because she knows Raphael will protect her if she breaks down.

They heard movement near the front of the kitchen as the bread was baking. The chatter of small children filled the room. She realized it was a bit odd, but Raphael asked her to stay close by to make sure the bread didn’t burn while baking. Despite her efforts, Raphael isn’t a very good cook. He’s too impatient. 

When the bread has fully baked and cooled down, they sit there, eating it with a spot of butter. Unsurprisingly, the kitchens in Enbarr have the finest quality ingredients in Fodlan. Raphael almost groans when he takes the first bite of bread. 

“Good, right?” Bernadetta smiles. The food in Garreg Mach was good, but it didn’t have access to ingredients of this quality. 

Raphael nods, shoving the rest of the slice of bread into his mouth. She made several loaves of bread for everyone. They all proofed at the same time, allowing her to bake them all together. 

“What are your plans after this?” Raphael asks, swallowing the bread down. He doesn’t reach for another slice of bread. 

Bernadetta blinks, surprised. “I might go see Petra,” she confesses, her flour-covered fingers twisting together. “I haven’t seen her in a while.” The last word they had on Petra was that she stayed with Dorothea. But now, they were both in the palace waiting for Edelgard to recover, just like everyone else.

“I was talking about after the war,” Raphael says quietly. “Ignatz is planning to go into art. Linhardt said that he’s going to crest research. Caspar will probably follow him. What about you?” He looks at her, their eyes meeting. 

Bernadetta freezes, she’s given it some thought. She never wants to be a noble again. No matter what happens, she wants to have the freedom to do whatever she wants. She figured that she would just follow Raphael around. If he didn’t mind it. 

“I haven’t really decided,” Bernadetta admits softly, her fingers clenching at the hems of her sleeves. Her voice chokes and she feels her chest becoming tight.

“Ah geez, Bernie.” Raphael apologizes, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He grabs her hands, squeezing them. “I was just sad, thinking about not seeing you guys.” He explains, his golden eyes looking into hers. “It’s been a great five years, it’s hard to imagine it ending like this.”

Bernadetta pulls her hands away. “It’s fine, Raphael.” She mutters looking down. There she went again, freaking out over a simple question. 

“It’s my bad, really.” Raphael points out. “It’s only been a couple of days since everything ended. The dust should settle before we plan anything.” A small part of her is comforted by the we in that sentence. Raphael has a point. She is going to miss their group. These past five years have been wonderful, despite all the painful growth she went through at the beginning of it.

She didn’t like being in Enbarr. But with Raphael by her side, he made it almost bearable.

* * *

(3rd Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1186)

Caspar stayed on the surface with Linhardt. When Linhardt heard that they would be going underground, he immediately volunteered himself to do healing with Manuela and Dorothea. Caspar followed, even though he wasn’t much help. Actually, he was a little bit of help as he moved around unconscious bodies with Petra for them.

There was a lot of healing to go around, and there were a lot of rooms in the palace. Whenever he visited Enbarr, they restricted his family to the ground floor. That was fine. There were more than enough rooms to house them. But there are makeshift hospital wings all over Enbarr, dedicated to healing the wounded on both sides.

Dimitri made it a point to keep any soldiers who surrendered alive. Caspar still didn’t like him very much, but he earned a couple of points in his book. 

He’s spent most of his time catching up with Petra. He hadn’t seen her in over five years! She hasn’t changed much, she still has her Brigid accent, but her speaking is much smoother. She’s still pretty as ever.

She said that she had a chance to speak to his father about the invasion where her father died. His dad actually apologized to her. Not for stopping the invasion, but for killing her father. According to him, her father offered up his life in exchange for the lives of his soldiers and Brigid. 

Caspar never knew. His father had never been a proud or boastful man. Despite being known as one of Fodlan’s most renowned generals, his father never acted like it. He wonders what is going to happen to his father now that the war is over. It’s not as if they can let him live. 

It’s nice catching up with her. He’s been telling her stories of how he traveled through the Kingdom and the Alliance with the others. She was surprised as Dorothea when he told her that Bernadetta left with Raphael and he convinced Linhardt to come with him. 

They’re coming back from moving another soldier’s body when she spots him, stopping in her tracks. “Caspar?” A young woman stops as he talks with Petra.

Caspar’s brow furrows, trying to recall her in his memory. “Hi?” Caspar answers back, looking at her. She seems familiar, but also not really. She wears her hair in two low plaits, but Caspar doesn’t recognize her.

“Fleche?” Petra asks curiously, looking at her. Caspar glances at Petra, who seems more familiar with this young woman than him.

“Hi Petra,” Fleche greets cheerfully. She takes a step forward to Caspar, looking at him. “It is you, Caspar, right?” She tilts her head curiously. “It’s Fleche….your aunt.”

Caspar does a double take. He remembers her now. She was Randolph’s younger sister. He hasn’t seen her since she had to leave Fort Merceus with Randolph and her mother.

“Fleche,” he chokes out. He hasn’t seen her since they were young. She was a year younger than him and he just remembers the castle gates closing on them as his father removed them from Fort Merceus. “How- how are you doing?” His hands twist in front of him, his wrist turning nervously.

“I am well,” Fleche answers gently, watching him. “I have been serving her majesty in the palace. Randolph is a general under her command.”

“I know-” Caspar nods, furiously. “We saw him at Garreg Mach-when he attacked us a couple of months ago.” Randolph was a few years older than him. He was surprised to hear that he rose to the ranks of General. 

Fleche swallows, looking down. “He’s been stationed in western Adrestia ever since,” she admits. She pulls a plait over her shoulder. 

Commotion over their shoulder distracts them. It’s the group that went down into the dungeons. Seteth leads the way with Lady Rhea in his arms. She doesn’t look well. 

He shares a look with Petra and Fleche and follows them. Lady Rhea hadn’t been seen in over five years since the fall of Garreg Mach. It’s a wonder she’s still alive. No one’s really given an answer as to why the Empire attacked the Church of Seiros all those years ago. Perhaps Lady Rhea and Edelgard will provide the answers that are missing. Ferdinand certainly didn’t know.

Seteth puts Lady Rhea down on a bed and Flayn stands over them, running a Heal spell over her unconscious figure. They’ve got her in a pretty big room so they can crowd around her bed. Caspar can see the red burns around her wrists and ankles. She looks, quite frankly, awful. Almost like a corpse warmed over.

Flayn looks over at Seteth, shaking her head. The green warmth retreats from her hands and Seteth sits down, breathing heavily. Everyone that went down there is covered in some form of grime and dirt. Caspar doesn’t even want to ask what they saw down there.

Everyone takes a step back, looking deflated. Caspar wasn’t sure how the Knights of Seiros felt, but there was a certain feeling in the air. Like if Lady Rhea was able to return as archbishop, then everything would go back to normal. But if she couldn’t recover, there was no chance.

A small pale hand reaches forward as Edelgard sits on the bed, next to Lady Rhea. Seteth looks up, startled. She had been so quiet when she came in, not even making a sound. Claude and Dimitri watch her from the side as Edelgard rests Lady Rhea’s head into her lap, her hands placed on Lady Rhea’s shoulders.

_ In time’s flow, see the glow of flames ever burning bright. On the swift river’s drift, broken memories alight.  _

She sings, her voice soft and clear. Lady Rhea’s hair begins to glow as does Seteth and Flayn’s. They stare at Edelgard, surprised. Something is going on. Caspar isn’t sure what. Her breath grows more ragged as Lady Rhea opens her eyes slowly. 

“Edelgard?” Lady Rhea chokes out, her voice hoarse and scratchy. Edelgard nods, her hands still resting on her shoulders. “You-you did it.” Edelgard nods again, brushing away a lock of matted hair from Lady Rhea’s face. Her hair stops glowing as does Seteth and Flayn’s do.

Lady Rhea reaches up a hand to cup Edelgard’s cheek. “Thank you so much.” Her eyes drift close again and she sleeps. But her breathing is not as hard and nor do her eyes flutter as much. 

Edelgard looks around, sliding Lady Rhea’s head off her lap. She stands up and almost collapses immediately, leaning against the bed frame. She looks far more exhausted than when she first started singing. Dimitri picks her up, resting her head against his chest and carries her away. Claude watches them go, shaking his head, and follows them. 

Flayn returns to Lady Rhea’s side and finds that her Heal spell is more responsive. Caspar wonders what just happened. Linhardt has a curious look on his face. There seems to be more than what meets the eye with Edelgard and Lady Rhea. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot happened this chapter, even though it was only over the course of one day. Let me know what you think in the comments!


	28. Part IV Chapter II

* * *

(6th Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1186)

Edelgard sings to Lady Rhea twice a day. When she finishes, she looks exhausted, but Lady Rhea recovers by the song. No one knows how she’s doing it, and neither Seteth nor Flayn will explain anything either. But people have their theories.

There are no formal introductions for the children. Edelgard is confined to her room as she recovers, but the children roam the palace. They’re pretty sure they’re aware of the war and the Empire’s defeat, but no one wants to ask. Everyone stares once they realize whose children they are.

Everyone leaves for Garreg Mach in separate carriages. They leave lieutenants and soldiers there, but most of them leave for Garreg Mach. Lady Rhea’s recovery is paramount, and so is securing Edelgard and Hubert.

Edelgard is taken to her old room. She was allowed to bring some things from the palace. She’s a prisoner of war, but...Lady Rhea makes it clear that Hubert and Edelgard kept her alive despite TWSiTD’s best efforts. When Lady Rhea is awake, she’s always asking for her or Hubert.

But that raises even more questions. How much responsibility did Hubert and Edelgard have in this war?

Until they can determine it, Hubert’s under house arrest. All food and water will be brought to him. Because Edelgard is aiding in Lady Rhea’s recovery and her children, she’s allowed more leeway. But she’s also under constant supervision.

Western Adrestia falls under King Lambert’s command. Despite not having led on the battlefield for over ten years, he impresses, leading swiftly and decisively. There are some holed up in castles or forts, but they are under siege and should surrender soon.

Claude, Ferdinand, Seteth, and Dimitri need to plan for the state of Fodlan and what to do with the Empire as it falls.

* * *

(8th Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1186)

Ashe watches Edelgard’s children run around the library. They aren’t screaming, but they’re bringing book after book for Edelgard to read to them. Apparently, Edelgard was in the habit of reading books for her children before bed.

He tries not to stare too much at Edelgard. It’s hard to imagine the girl who patched him up after so many training sessions as the Emperor. Thankfully, compared to the others, he acts okay with the children. Dedue certainly stared and didn’t say much when he was introduced. Ashe is pretty sure it was out of shock.

“Not what you expected?” Edelgard asks quietly with a tower of books stacked in her lap. Her children certainly have a lot of interests, grabbing book after book off the shelves. Ashe assumed that they were used to the library, watching them slip around the shelves with ease. She shakes her head, her hair neatly braided today. “I’ll limit them to a few books. I’m not going to read them that many in a month.”

“One month?” Ashe blurts out. He volunteered to watch Edelgard for the day. There weren’t many volunteers, but Ashe wanted to get a good look at his former classmate. “Why would you say one month?”

Edelgard raises a thin white eyebrow. “I assumed I had limited privileges,” Edelgard answers calmly. “Coming to the library isn’t exactly something that should be encouraged. Aren’t you worried about someone hiding in the shelves or me leaving a note for a spy of some sort?” She lifts the books off her lap, placing them side by side on the tables. She looks over the titles, sorting them. 

Ashe stares, “What?” He sputters, he hadn’t considered that. Dimitri and the others certainly never gave him guidelines. “Where would you do that?” Edelgard watches him, slightly bemused. He feels as if they are speaking different languages.

“Nowhere,” Edelgard shakes her head, her thin braid swishing between her shoulders. “Alexandria! Edward!” She calls out, rising from her chair. “I think that’s enough books,” she tells them as they come to a halt, each carrying a book. She grazes a title on the table. “I certainly don’t think you would be interested in _Hresvelg Treatises, a History_.” 

“But it has our name on it,” Alexandria answers innocently. Edward nods his head furiously. “Why wouldn’t we be interested in it?” For someone so young, they certainly chose thick books to start with as Ashe eyes the particular title. Edward leads her over, putting their chosen books down on the table. With the number of books they’ve chosen, they might need help carrying them back to Edelgard’s room. 

Edelgard smirks at Ashe, opening the book. She reads out loud, “In the year of 682, Wolfgang von Hresvelg entered into negotiations with the country of Dagda. He found there limited trading supplies and impressive amounts of a root vegetable, now referred to as a potato.” Ashe watches them as their eyes begin to glaze over as Edelgard continues to read.

Edward walks over, putting a small hand over his mother’s as she traces the lines. She stops talking. “I understand, mama.” He says calmly as Edelgard brushes a hand over his forehead. “We can leave that book here.” 

“I understand that you like books, but some books aren’t very interesting to read,” Edelgard murmurs to them, kneeling. “I like that book because I like to read those kinds of books. But let’s choose one that you like to read, okay?” She moves a strand of hair away from Alexandria’s face. It got loose from her braid. 

“Mama likes boring books,” Alexandria says bluntly, moving away from her. She pushes herself onto the chair, looking over the titles they chose. Edelgard shares a look with Ashe before lifting Edward into the chair next to her. 

“Can we read this one, mama?” Edward asks, lifting a title into Edelgard’s hand. She freezes, reading the cover of the book. “It’s called-,” Edward contorts his face as he tries to read the title. 

“Loog,” Edelgard murmurs. “It’s called _Loog and the Maiden of the Wind_. Of course, we can read it.”

* * *

(9th Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1186)

Cyril watches Lady Rhea carefully as he helps her drink the Chamomile tea that he brewed for her. Even though Edelgard has been healing her twice a day, her recovery is slow. He’s seen Edelgard around the monastery with her- children. He doesn’t understand. Why does Lady Rhea like Edelgard so much?

He saw the dungeons where Lady Rhea was. Why was Edelgard let out of them when Lady Rhea was left to rot there?

Lady Rhea squeezes his wrist with weak fingers, signaling that she had enough tea. Edelgard stays at her bedside as Lady Rhea commanded. When Cyril puts the teacup back on the stand, Lady Rhea reaches for Edelgard. She obliges, placing her thin fingers into Lady Rhea’s hand.

Lady Rhea smiles softly. “Will you sing for me?” She coughs out, her voice weak. Edelgard opens her mouth to sing the familiar mantra, but Lady Rhea stops her. “Not that one,” she chokes out, smiling. “The one I taught you-” She coughs harshly, her shoulders shaking. Cyril stands up to tend to her, but she waves him off.

“When you’re feeling better,” Edelgard assures her, patting her hand softly. “When you can walk down to the piano, I will sing for you.” She promises, her hair tied up in a high side ponytail. Cyril tried the words for himself when Lady Rhea sleeps. But when he sings it, nothing happens.

When Edelgard sings, Lady Rhea’s hair glows, and as if by magic, the air around them grows dark and glistens. Edelgard is always left weak when she sings, barely able to walk by herself. Cyril has had to walk her back down to her room to rest. She’s a lot lighter than she looks.

“I’ll be back later,” Edelgard says to Lady Rhea as her eyes flutter, unable to stay awake. She’s gotten better, but even after Edelgard heals her, Lady Rhea does not have very much energy.

Lysithea is Edelgard’s chaperone today. It’s early enough in the morning that her children are still in bed. Edelgard turns to look at Lysithea, who nods as she is ready to go back down to her room. Cyril turns and stares at Lady Rhea, who’s already fallen asleep. He joins them, walking with them.

When they pass down the stairs, Edelgard says, “She missed you, you know.” Edelgard remarks dryly, staring out the window to the opened halls. She avoids Cyril’s gaze. “Everyone at the monastery,” Edelgard explains, her hands shoved into the pockets of her white dress. “She always said that she took you for granted.”

“What?” Cyril asks, stopping in place. Edelgard finally looks up, meeting his eyes. She takes a deep breath and continues.

“Lady Rhea,” Edelgard murmurs. “When we were in the dungeons together, she said that she missed everyone at the monastery,” she repeats herself softly. Lysithea’s staring at her as well. “That she took you and everyone who served her for granted.”

“Oh.” Cyril’s throat goes dry. Being reunited with Lady Rhea was the best. But even as she recovers, the Church of Seiros will have to regain its ground; the Church of Seiros had fractured in the past five years. That’s what Seteth said anyway.

When they were searching for Lady Rhea, they found themselves rejected by most of the small churches across the land. They were hesitant to house both foreigners and enemies of the Empire.

“You spent a lot of time with her,” Lysithea notes as she watches the two of them. Lysithea has been spending a lot of time with Edelgard and her children, more than Cyril would have expected. He knew they had a lot of seminars together with Professor Hanneman, but he wouldn’t have called them close.

Edelgard shrugs and says ruefully, “There really isn’t much to talk about when inside a dungeon for three years.” She shakes her head. “We both learned a lot about each other down there.” She looks down, avoiding both their gazes. Cyril never realized how short she was.

“Was she the one who changed your hair color?” Lysithea asks quickly; both Cyril and Edelgard stare at her, surprised. “I just- she seemed to know what happened when Professor Byleth’s hair color changed that I thought she knew what happened to you.”

Edelgard’s gaze darts to the side and she answers, tiredly. “She was there when my hair color changed, but no, she wasn’t the reason for it.” She fingers the end of the braid, the silver-white glinting in the sun.

* * *

(10th Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1186)

Mercedes and Annette have just finished baking a batch of Mercedes’ cookies. It’s probably one of the best batches they’ve done yet in the years they’ve known each other.

They smile at each other from across the counter, proud of the work well done. The war is finally coming to a close. They haven’t decided what they’re going to do. Annette’s uncle surrendered to King Lambert’s forces after Arianrhod was destroyed. Mercedes hasn’t talked to Dimitri yet, given the recent information, but she’s having second thoughts.

Mercedes leans against the counter as Annette focuses on peeling an apple. The batch they’ve made is chocolate chip, and Annette wants to prepare her stomach before it gets shocked with a sugary sweet.

Mercedes gets working right away to wash the bowls and spoon they used for the cookies. “Say, Annie?” Mercedes asks quietly, scrubbing at the bowl with a cloth. “What are you planning next?” They did their best to scrape away any cookie dough on the bowl, but Mercedes needs to remove it to make sure it doesn’t harden.

Annette freezes a slice of apple almost to her mouth. “Not sure,” Annette confesses putting the apple back onto the plate. “I’m not even sure what’s going to happen to my uncle,” she answers, bringing the plate of apples over to Mercedes. “I am of age to inherit the barony,” she explains, running a finger against the side of the metal plate. House Dominic was not very far from Fhirdiad. If Mercedes ended up marrying Dimitri, she could see her friend often. “What about you?”

“I’m not sure either,” Mercedes breathes, staring down at the wet cloth. Annette is one of the few people who knows that her relationship with Dimitri is a farce. In three years, Dimitri has never touched her or kissed her. But she knows Dimitri’s heart has always belonged to another. One that she thought had been dead less than a year ago. “But...I’m questioning my path.”

Annette slips in an arm between her elbow and side and rests her head on Mercedes’ taller shoulder. “Well, if anything, you can come live at House Dominic with me!” She points out cheerfully. “I’ll always be here for you Mercie.” Mercedes can smell Annette’s perfume from here, it blends nicely with the smell of the baked goods. She rests her head on top of Annette, enjoying the peace and quiet for a moment.

She reaches for Annette’s hand, squeezing it comfortingly. Annette has been an anchor for her these past years, more so in the past three. She can’t imagine not having Annette in her life. She loves her so much. Annette nuzzles her face into Mercedes’s shoulder, sighing contentedly.

Annette squeezes her hand, Mercedes lets go reluctantly and they part, slightly pink. She bumps her forehead against Annette and murmurs, quietly. “Thank you for everything, Annette.”

Annette returns to her plate of apples and Mercedes focuses on the dishes once more. She can smell that the cookies are almost done baking in the oven.

“I told you the kitchen smelled yummy!” Alexandria’s boisterous voice enters through the doorway, Edward and Edelgard not far behind. “Oh.” She stops when she sees them and Edward collides into her back. Edelgard rests a steady hand on both of them, keeping them upright.

“Careful children,” Edelgard sighs, her eyes drifting upward. She freezes and then smiles hesitantly when she meets Annette and Mercedes’s eyes.

“Hello,” Alexandria greets them softly, holding onto her brother’s hand. Edward doesn’t even greet them at all, hiding behind his sister. Alexandria looks so much like Edelgard, her brown hair neatly braided into two plaits like her mother. She sniffs the air, smelling the sweet cookies that were baking. “Do you know what smells so good?” She asks quietly, looking down.

Annette glances at Mercedes before answering cheerfully, “Those would be the cookies we’re baking!” She smiles brightly at the two children, kneeling with them. She whispers, conspiratorially. “They’re Mercie’s recipes, and I think they’re the best in Fodlan.” She looks up at Edelgard, hesitantly. “Do you want one?”

When Mercedes saw the two of them, next to Edelgard and Dimitri. She knew what they meant. Dimitri couldn’t even take his eyes off them as he was introducing them to Annette and Mercedes. She didn’t have very much hope in their future together, and now she had even less.

Alexandria looks up at her mother pleadingly. Edward joins in and she sees Edelgard repressing a smile. “Please, mama?” Her lower lip sticks out a little, and Mercedes feels her heart clench.

Edelgard nods, “Is it alright if they have two?” Edelgard asks Mercedes and Annette quietly. Both children look up at her, with smiles on their faces.

“Of course,” Mercedes answers gently, looking down at them. “The cookies should be done soon, but we have to let them cool first,” she says, reaching for the mittens. “Stand back,” she warns, opening the oven, letting the hot air out. The children give her a wide berth of space as she reaches for the tins in the oven. She moves them quickly to the counter, feeling the warmth through the thick mittens.

“They smell really good!” Alexandria compliments loudly, her head barely reaching over the counter. “Right, Ed?”

Edward nods quickly, standing next to his sister. They peer over the counter together, watching the steam come off the cookies.

“These would be the chocolate chip cookies,” Mercedes explains quickly, pointing them out. She has to work quickly to get the other batch of cookies out before they burn. “We should let them cool first before we eat them, alright?” Both children nod excitedly, watching the cookies with great interest.

She pulls out three more trays of cookies in the ovens, allowing them to cool. They made another batch of chocolate chips and two simple batches of plain sugar cookies.

Edelgard lifts Alexandria onto the counter so she can watch the cookies cool. She rests Edward on her hip as her son rests his head against her shoulder.

“How long do cookies need to cool?” Alexandria asks curiously, looking at Mercedes and Annette. “They look really yummy.” She sits on the edge of the counter waiting for Mercedes to give the signal.

“Just a couple of minutes,” Mercedes hums, putting away the mittens. “If you wanted to decorate the cookies, it would take longer, but these can be eaten fresh out of the oven. We’re just waiting so we don’t burn our mouths.”

Alexandria nods eagerly, watching the cookies with great interest. It seems that Alexandria inherited Edelgard’s sweet tooth as Edelgard watches the cookies with the same interest.

Mercedes grabs a flat spatula to lift the cooled cookies off the tin onto a metal plate. “Almost ready,” she murmurs as she transfers them over. When the first plate of cookies is filled, she passes it over to Annette, who brings it over to them. She focuses on the rest of the cookies, allowing them to cool properly.

With impressive speed, Alexandria shoves the cookie into her mouth, smearing it with chocolate. Her eyes go big with excitement as Edward takes a smaller bite of cookie. He looks down at it with the same big eyes and crams another bite of it into his mouth.

Edelgard breaks her cookie in half before taking a bite of it. She sighs, her shoulders relaxing, satisfied.

Alexandria opens her mouth to speak, full of chocolate chip cookies, but Edelgard quells her with a look. Alexandria swallows her food. “This is so good!” Alexandria compliments boisterously. “Do you do a lot of baking?” Edward nods along with his sister, finishing the rest of his cookie.

“Mercedes and Annette were the best bakers,” Edelgard explains to them. “Anything they made was always excellent, even rivaling the best bakeries in Enbarr.”

* * *

(12th Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1186)

Ingrid slides a worn copy of the _King’s Mother: The Power Behind the Throne_ over to Edelgard wordlessly. Glenn watches them both nervously. She brought this theory up to him and while he wasn’t sure if she was right; they were going to confirm it one way or another. Edelgard’s eyes flicker from the book cover up to Ingrid’s, revealing nothing. 

“You wanted me to read this book,” Ingrid starts quietly. “When we were in Faerghus, you’d thought I would like it.” It told the tale of Henry VIII’s paternal grandmother; Henry VIII had been the husband of the play that had the six wives that Edelgard portrayed. It was a fascinating tale of a woman who did what she had to do to survive and raise her son eventually to be King. Because of her, her son became King against all odds.

The reason why Ingrid hadn’t read it until now was that it was a rare book, a tale from the Empire and not the Kingdom. She had found it in Enbarr’s libraries. They called her the Red Queen. Ingrid knew what it meant when she read those words. “It was you at the Great Bridge of Myrddin,” Ingrid continues as Edelgard watches her calmly. “ _You_ warned us about Cornelia. _You_ warned Claude about the missiles. You’re the Red Queen.” She hasn’t told anyone else yet about her discovery, only Glenn. She hasn’t told Sylvain, Felix or anyone else. 

Edelgard blinks calmly, closing the book in front of her. It’s some random treatise that Ashe always says she’s reading. She borrowed a stack of them from the library earlier this month. “I am,” Edelgard confirms. “But why does that matter?” She responds coldly. “The war is over. Your side won.”

“Of course it matters,” Ingrid answers aghast. “You were trying to help us.” Things were not what they seemed with Edelgard. TWSiTD clearly played a role with her as the Emperor, but there were so many unanswered questions. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Edelgard’s brow furrows, and she narrows her eyes. “My appearances as the Red Queen were carefully planned. Hubert helped me slip away whenever he could. To say something would have meant tipping off the Agarthans. If I said anything, they would have hurt Alexandria and Edward.”

“They were using them against you,” Glenn concludes, watching them both. “You were allowed to roam around the Empire, but they kept them under close watch.” Glenn squeezes Ingrid’s hand comfortingly as he continues. “That must have been hard for you to have them threatened like that.”

Edelgard’s lip curls, and she looks away. “It was,” she murmurs, exhaling. Her fingers unfurl around the book in her lap. “I did what I could, but it never seemed enough. Cornelia still almost killed King Lambert. Claude barely left Ft. Merceus before it was destroyed.” She shakes her head. “This war could have ruined everything.” 

Ingrid sits down and reaches a hand out, putting on the table. “But it didn’t,” Ingrid whispers, looking at Edelgard pleadingly. “We’re all here now, we’re together again.”

Edelgard looks up, holding Ingrid’s gaze for a moment. She reaches out a pale thin hand and holds Ingrid’s rough and calloused one. “Yes, we are, aren’t we.”

* * *

(14th Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1186)

Rhea is finally well enough to move outside of her room. She can’t walk yet, but at this point, the fresh air is better for her. Cyril commissioned a wooden wheelchair for her use.

Claude escorts Edelgard with Dimitri to see Rhea in the conference room. She wanted to see Edelgard immediately. Her children are with their governess, Fleche, who came with them from Enbarr. The children didn’t want to part with their caretaker.

Seteth and Ferdinand are already in the room, waiting for them. Edelgard freezes when she enters through the door, the Sword of the Creator sitting on the table.

“How long have you had that?” Edelgard asks quietly, but steel lines in her voice. Claude stares as well, looking up at Seteth. He never mentioned that the Knights of Seiros had found Teach, or the Sword of the Creator at the very least.

“We found it when searching for Professor Byleth,” Seteth explains wearily. He looks very old. Not as old as Claude suspects him and Flayn are but still, old. “We did not find their body, but we found the Sword of the Creator in the canyons near the monastery. There was no sign of them anywhere.”

Claude sighs. He understands the need for secrets. But if Teach had shown up earlier in the war, the tide could have turned much sooner with them by their side. “So we have the Sword of the Creator, that’s good at least. Are we returning it to the Holy Mausoleum?” He asks, sitting down. Edelgard chooses to stand as does Dimitri who waits by the door. 

This entire month, Dimitri has been quiet. Often not contributing very much to governing Fodlan. Claude imagines his mind is elsewhere, which is understandable giving the events. 

“No.” Rhea murmurs, looking straight at Edelgard, who is avoiding her gaze. “We are not.”

Realization dawning on Edelgard. “No, absolutely not.” She protests, stubbornly. “I- Rhea, are you insane?” She clenches her hands into her skirts. She looks at Seteth, disbelievingly. “She told you, didn’t she? And you agree with her?”

Seteth hesitates, “I think that with Those Who Slither in the Dark still out there, having someone who can wield the Sword of the Creator would be advisable.” Seteth answers simply. He stands by Rhea’s chair, a hand placed on the back protectively. Claude glances between Edelgard and Rhea.

He raises a hand, “I’m sorry. I think I’m missing something. Why would Edelgard be able to wield the Sword of the Creator?” He knows that Edelgard has the Crest of Seiros, but that doesn’t necessarily make her compatible with wielding the Sword of the Creator. 

“Because she has the Crest of Flames,” Rhea answers softly, Dimitri’s gaze darting to Edelgard. She flinches, her hands still shoved into her skirt. “The Agarthans implanted one into her.”

“What?” Dimitri asks, staring at her. Edelgard looks away, her hands clenched tight. Every part of her up to her neck is covered, even her hands are covered with white gloves. “How?”

“They call it a blood reconstruction surgery,” Edelgard answers quietly. “It’s painful, and it is dangerous. Most don’t survive it.” Her hands relax, but she shoves them quickly into her pockets. She still refuses to look at them. 

Dimitri blinks, surprised. “Your siblings…” He says quietly, Edelgard’s head jerks up, turning to stare at him. “That’s what happened to them, they were experimented on.” He reaches out for her and she flinches, moving away from his touch. Dimitri recoils as if burned. 

Claude remembers Hilda had mentioned the many skeletons in the dungeons where Rhea and Edelgard were held captive. He swallows, his throat tight. 

Edelgard trembles, her shoulders shaking in anger. Her lips are thin and white. “They wanted a peerless Emperor,” Edelgard scoffs angrily. “Well, here I stand, the fruits of their endeavor.” She shakes her head, the Crest of Flames flaring the background with little effort. “All it cost was ten lives if not more.” 

Ferdinand watches her carefully, his hands tightly clenched. “My father did this, did he not?” He asks mournfully. “We rose to power on the death of your family.”

“Yes.” Her eyes dart towards him, sitting on the side of the table. He’s been silent throughout all of this as well. Any anger she had disappeared with him as her shoulders drop. “He did.”

“I’m sorry, Edelgard.” Ferdinand says quietly, looking at her. He shakes his head, “I swear, I didn’t know.”

“I know,” Edelgard smiles feebly, looking at him. “You’ve always been an awful liar even before everything.” Ferdinand smiles weakly back. He reaches for her hand and she takes it, his fingers clutching hers.

“I’m sorry, Edelgard.” Ferdinand repeats. His other hand reaches for her and she nods, slightly wet-eyed. “I’m sorry.”

Claude watches them, tears drop from Ferdinand’s eyes as the two of them console each other. Over some late nights and wine, Ferdinand told about how he used to run around the Imperial with Edelgard. In childhood, she remained the same as El at the monastery. Dimitri watches them, his hands in fists. 

She pulls away, looking at Rhea steadfastly. Rhea’s kept the same expression throughout all of this, an eerily calm one. Ferdinand stands by her side. “I’m not wielding the Sword of the Creator,” Edelgard states, steadfast. “That- I don’t deserve to wield the Sword of the Creator,” she protests, shaking her head. “That belongs to Professor Byleth.”

“Professor Byleth is not here,” Rhea says regretfully, her hands slightly clench on the table. “In my heart, I truly wish that they were still with us. But the rise of the Agarthans has taught me that someone should wield the Sword of the Creator.”

Edelgard stares at her flatly, Claude gets the sense that she wants to shout something at the Archbishop but she’s always been good at hiding her feelings. 

Seteth clears his throat. “I understand if you are uncomfortable, but I have to agree with Rhea,” he states. “Those Who Slither in the Dark are still out there. We have no idea what kind of army they could raise.” Thales did not flee to Castle Arundel. King Lambert and Lord Rodrigue found no sign of him in Western Adrestia. It was almost as if his forces had vanished from Fodlan. 

“I started a war,” Edelgard protests, standing firm. “Do you know how this will look to everyone?” She shakes her head, her hair flying around wildly. They couldn’t keep it hidden forever. Word was beginning to spread around Fodlan that the Emperor still lived, spared by the coalition. Claude was waiting for the letters to flood in. 

“Technically, my father started the war,” Ferdinand mentions off-handed, and Edelgard shoots him a glare. 

She rolls her eyes at him. “I escalated a war then,” Edelgard shoots back, pettily. More serious, “Thousands of lives are on my hands,” she states bluntly. “I don’t deserve to wield the Sword of the Creator.”

“But you do,” Rhea insists airily. “You freed us as you promised in the dungeons.” Everyone stares at her and Edelgard. “Do not martyr yourself for crimes you did not commit, child. The Sword of the Creator is yours.”

* * *

(17th Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1186)

Hilda chews on her lip, reading the letter from Holst. He’s not happy about Edelgard. Well, not happy would be too strong. He’s not comfortable with Edelgard being _alive._ The generals in Western Adrestia are being very stubborn. In particular, it’s Count Bergliez holed up in a castle with his men who refuse to surrender. Holst thinks it’s because they’re hoping to use Edelgard as a figurehead to continue the war. 

Hilda’s not sure how to explain to him that Edelgard really doesn’t want the war to continue. She hasn’t talked to Edelgard about it, but it’s pretty clear that she wants to spend most of her time with her kids. Also, if Holst wants Edelgard dead, he’ll have to deal with Dimitri. Holst is Holst but she’s seen Dimitri rip apart a battalion or two. It’s not a fight that she wants to be in the middle of. 

Alexandria and Edward are cute; when Claude showed them to her, Hilda stared for more than a few minutes. It was hard to imagine Edelgard as a mother. At the monastery, she would never call Edelgard warm or comforting. Except for that time, Edelgard got her out of that Axe seminar with Gilbert. But the woman adores her children. 

_Those Who Slither in the Dark_ was a ridiculous name. She felt the need to mock Hubert for it. Who names a group of people that have been working behind the scenes for almost two decades? Seteth called them the Agarthans. Lysithea’s been researching that group, but no information has come up. Admittedly, as Seteth has confessed that he, alongside with Tomas, curated the topics in the library in a way that controversial information was removed. As a result, Lysithea has ordered some books from the Imperial library sent to the monastery.

She’ll have to leave for Goneril territory soon, resisting the urge to chew on her quill. Holst wants her home now that the war is over. But she promised Claude that she would see this thing through and she’s not breaking her promise to him. 

How to explain to Holst that Edelgard was just being used as a figurehead for this war? That this went far beyond her control and knowledge? But she was at the Battle of Gronder. She almost killed Claude’s retainer, Nardel. How complicit was Edelgard in this war? She shoves her hands into her face, thinking. 

“Hilda?” Marianne’s soft voice drifts into her thoughts. Hilda looks up, excitedly. Marianne is standing in front of her, blushing lightly, her long skirts drifting against the floor. “Is everything alright?” She asks curiously. Hilda wonders how long she was standing there.

“I’ve had better days,” Hilda waves around the letter Holst wrote to her. She knows that she should be more careful with her brother’s letters, that she should be showing them to other people. But Holst knows that amongst the houses at the monastery, their year has proven to be exceptionally close. Most students’ bonds don’t usually last beyond the Officer’s Academy.

Marianne sits down next to her, reading over the letter. Hilda buries her head into Marianne’s lap. Marianne doesn’t even react, not a squeak- nothing. But what she does is run her fingers through Hilda’s hair as she reads. Hilda sighs, content with her head being pillowed by Marianne’s thighs. 

“Your brother is worried about Edelgard, then?” Marianne concludes, handing back the letter to Hilda. She folds and shoves it inside her pocket. “Margrave Edmund is the same,” she states calmly, her nails scraping against Hilda’s scalp. “Not that I don’t trust Claude’s judgment but…”

“Edelgard is the Emperor,” Hilda completes her sentence. “She’s dangerous even if she doesn’t want to be.” Honestly, all Edelgard has done is with her children at the monastery. They go to the library once a week. She showed her kids the fishing pond and the flower fields. They’re constantly being watched. Hubert is locked away in his room. Rhea’s shown complete and utter trust in her. Claude told her about the Sword of the Creator. It’s hard to explain that to Holst, but given that there are parts of the Empire still holding out in Western Adrestia, he’s not wrong. 

Marianne nods, pausing in her motions. Hilda makes a whining noise in her throat and Marianne smiles, continuing to run her fingers through her hair. “What are your plans after everything is over?” Despite the war having ended, the generals are still expected to stay at the monastery. Their soldiers are starting to return home after their service, but the Knights of Seiros insist on their presence here. Besides, Claude, Ferdinand, and Dimitri need to figure out what to do with the Empire. 

Ferdinands already refused to accept the title of Emperor, citing the fact that he shouldn’t have had the position of the Emperor’s heir in the first place. But Edelgard can’t be reinstated. She refuses the position as well. Claude’s planning something radical up his sleeve, but she can’t get a read on Dimitri. She’s not sure what they were expecting, but given everything that happened, they can’t return to the status quo. Too much has changed.

Count Hvering was under house arrest at his territory, as was Duke Gerth and Countess Varley. Count Bergliez was holed up in a castle in Western Adrestia while Lord Arundel was missing.

“I’m going back to Goneril,” Hilda answers, relaxing in Marianne’s lap. “Holst wants me back home. I have some plans with Fodlan’s Locket and I might need everyone’s support on it.” Honestly, her talk with Claude last month before the siege might have been a dream. But she wants to implement it. 

In the past five years, she’s spent a lot of time between Deidriu and Fodlan’s Locket. There are a lot of Almyran children around the Alliance. She knows it’s been a long time since she’s really spoken with Cyril. He’s always hanging around Lysithea when he isn’t running around the monastery. But his story really stood out to her. And she wants to do better. If they can reduce the number of invasions by Almyra, it may cut down on the number of Almyran slaves they have here. It’s going to anger a lot of Alliance nobles, but Hilda thinks it’s worth it.

“Whatever it is, Hilda. You’ll have my support,” Marianne smiles down at her. Hilda squeezes her hand comfortingly. Hilda knows she’s lucky to have everyone supporting her. Even if Lorenz might oppose it, she still has everyone else on her side. And that’s worth more than a thousand gold. But Marianne’s support means more than its fair share.

* * *

(21st Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1186)

A knock on the door interrupts their discussion. The numbers being sent from Bergliez territory are impressive. In the past five years because Bergliez has not been selling his inventory to the rest of Fodlan means that his warehouses are stuffed to the gills. The amount of food Bergliez produces could sustain the entirety of Fodlan for at least a month. 

They have to figure out what to do with it. Dimitri wants whoever takes Bergliez’s place to sell it but Ferdinand has some more radical ideas. He’s vying for distribution centers placed all around Fodlan, supporting territories that might need extra help during the winter. Claude doesn’t disagree with Ferdinand, but he does see where Dimitri is coming from. They’re coming from a five-year long war, stability is what they need.

He has plans with Almyra. When those come to fruition, chaos would probably erupt all over Fodlan. If he wants this to go peacefully, Fodlan needs to be stable.

When Edelgard comes in, she’s carrying a dense tome. Dimitri stands, looking behind her. Her children are not with her and she carries the book in two hands. 

“Are you already finished?” Ferdinand asks curiously as Edelgard puts the book down. They look at Ferdinand expectantly.

“I did,” she nods, dryly. “It was a good read Ferdinand, but I’m not sure why you gave it to me.” Claude recognizes the book now. Ferdinand tried to have them read it earlier that year, but Claude read the first chapter page and his brain started to melt. “The children are with Fleche,” she explains flatly. “They’re probably running around the meadows right now, ripping out flowers.”

She shoves the book right over to Ferdinand, sliding it across the table. It’s a decently thick book. “My children thought it was a paperweight,” Edelgard states calmly. “You left it outside of my room,” she says accusingly. 

“I thought you would like it,” Ferdinand responds innocently, taking the book in hand. “Did you?” He looks up at her for approval, his eyes gazing at her adoringly.

“It was good,” Edelgard responds, flipping her hair over her shoulder. She’s left it down today with the sides drawn up, reminiscent of the way she used to wear her hair at the monastery. She repeats herself. “It was very good, Ferdinand.”

Ferdinand opens the book, revealing parchment in the front. “You took notes,” Ferdinand spots, flipping over the folded parchment. “You took detailed notes.” He looks up at her, expectantly. Pink spots begin to appear on Edelgard’s cheeks. 

“It was good, Ferdinand,” Edelgard says again, looking away. She flushes slightly. Her eyes catch Dimitri’s stare and she looks away again. Her eyes spot the map of Fodlan hanging on the wall. “Distribution centers?” She asks, taking a step back to take it in fully. 

“Yes,” Ferdinand nods, walking to stand next to her. “How did you know?” He asks curiously. Ferdinand put the map up as a way to give the full scope of Fodlan, to put weight into their decision making.

“You mentioned it many times in your writing.” She responds lightly, looking up at the map. “How many are you thinking?” She looks at Ferdinand. 

“We haven’t made that decision yet,” Claude blurts, standing up from his seat. “We’re still deciding on the need for food distribution centers in the first place.”

Edelgard wrinkles her nose. “Well….if you ever decide,” she reaches for pins on the side of the board. “Might I suggest these three areas?” She looks back at them. When Dimitri nods, she pushes the pins into the board. One each into Gaspard, Galatea, and Ordelia. “Bergliez and Garreg Mach can act as another distribution center in a way.” She explains quickly, brushing her fingers against the map.

“The seat of government will be in Garreg Mach, correct?” When they don’t answer- they haven’t made that decision yet either. She shakes her head quickly. “No matter. Ferdinand’s idea of distribution centers is a good one, but you must ensure that whoever administers those regions does not grow corrupt. Might I suggest having term limits?” This surprises Claude. The distribution centers were a point of concern for everyone. 

If there were distribution centers for food, they would have to be placed in locations where the lords didn’t wield very much power. She’s chosen suitable locations. Ordelia might be one of the five lords, but the Empire’s interference into Lysithea’s house has made them weak. 

Ferdinand’s smile grows even bigger as she continues to talk. “You mean to have them separate from the lord who governs the territory themselves?” Ferdinand asks curiously, standing next to her. It’s as if they are in their own little world, discussing the future of Fodlan.

Edelgard pauses, hesitating. “Would be the best way, wouldn’t it?” Claude gets the feeling that this isn't a question but a statement. Ferdinand’s smile grows even bigger. “I should go,” Edelgard states calmly. “Alexandria and Edward will begin to wonder where I am.”

Ferdinand deflates, watching her step away from their discussion. There are still spots of pink on her cheeks as she realizes what she’s done. Dimitri looks over at Ferdinand, calculating. “Edelgard!” He calls out as she reaches for the door. “Do you want to stay? We would be grateful for your input and contribution.” Ferdinand looks at Dimitri first and then at Edelgard with pleading eyes. Edelgard hesitates, looking at Claude, who nods encouragingly. 

Having more voices in the decision making would make Fodlan a better country. Claude wants to hear her ideas on the Church of Seiros and its next steps. Seteth left to take care of Rhea earlier that day.

Her eyes dart from Dimitri to Claude to Ferdinand and then back to Dimitri. “Alright,” she says nervously with a shy smile, pulling a chair for herself. “What were you discussing?

* * *

(24th Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1186)

Felix is on the training floor for an early morning practice. From what he understands is that while the war with the Empire has ended, the war with Those Who Slither in the Dark has just begun. They just have to figure out where they are in the first place. Felix intends to keep his blade sharp, just in case. This isn’t a full out war that they’re fighting, this is one that needs to be done in the shadows. They don’t want this war to escalate. 

The door to the training room floor opens, and it’s Edelgard, trailed behind a groggy Hilda. “Oh,” she whispers. “I thought it would be empty.” She has the Sword of the Creator by her side. She glances back at Hilda, who rubs her eyes.

“Well, most normal people aren’t up at this time,” Hilda complains, sleepy. Her eyes catch Felix’s who rolls his eyes. 

“Are you training with the Sword of the Creator?” He asks brusquely. Whenever Byleth trained, they rarely allowed people other than Jeralt inside the training floor. They only raised their blade against their father and their enemies.

Edelgard glances down at the sword. “I am,” Edelgard says hoarsely. “The children are still sleeping and I thought the training floor would be empty.” They trained both in swords at Castle Fraldarius and at Garreg Mach. El had favored the axe more, but she used swords occasionally. 

“Spar with me,” Felix orders, raising his sword by his side. Hilda freezes, eyeing Edelgard and Felix. Edelgard sighs too used to his demands. Everyone’s seen the Sword of the Creator in the hands of Byleth. He wonders if Edelgard will wield it with the same ease and control.

“Let me get used to it first,” Edelgard snaps back. Felix hides a smile. She had been acting far too docile since she returned to Garreg Mach. This was more of her usual fire. “I haven’t even tried wielding it yet.” She sighs. 

Rumors flew all around the monastery when people realized that Rhea wanted Edelgard to wield the Sword of the Creator. And the fact that Edelgard had two crests instead of one, just like Lysithea. Nobody has heard how she gained two crests- the boar mentioned that she had the one crest at the Millenium Festival.

Hilda and Felix watch her raise the Sword of the Creator, seeing it glint in the morning air. Edelgard is nervous, her arms shake with the sword in her hand. She sighs, stopping the shaking. She swings it around, hearing it slice through the air.

She exhales again, testing out the weight of the sword, holding her arm straight. “Give me a couple of days with it,” she tells Felix, shaking her head. “I need more time to feel comfortable with it.”

Felix grunts, “Fine.” He says flatly. It wasn’t as if he was expecting Edelgard to jump right into sparring with him, but he’d rather not wait days to test the Sword of the Creator in combat. He goes back to running drills on his own. Hilda watches them both, bored. 

Edelgard has her hair in a high ponytail that swishes across her back as she runs through drills with the Sword of the Creator. He should have known that she wouldn’t spar with him on the first day. But it wasn’t a no. Byleth always refused when he asked. If he practices with the Shield of Aegis, perhaps she’ll feel more comfortable with t. 

He’s always fought with two-handed swords, but since he inherited the Shield of Aegis, he has introduced one-handed swords into his combat. He can’t hit as hard with one-handed swords, but his defense is much better. 

Sweating profusely, Edelgard peels off her top, wringing it. Felix stares, watching the trail of scars all over her arms and her back. Hilda stares too, but Edelgard barely seems to notice. She bends over, hands on her knees, panting hard. 

There are numerous scars going across her torso and down her arms. He heard Mercedes telling Annette about them, but Felix didn’t imagine this many. What exactly did the Empire do to her?

* * *

(30th Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1186)

“Edelgard, you promised.” Dorothea hears Lady Rhea say just outside of the courtyard. She spots Edelgard pushing Lady Rhea in the wheelchair that was crafted for her as her children run around chasing each other. 

Edelgard frowns. “You should be resting,” she responds tightly, brushing back a lock of hair behind Rhea’s ear. Sylvain’s with them right now, and he waves hello to Dorothea. She just sent off a letter to Manuela, asking if she wanted to come back to Garreg Mach. 

With Rhea recovered from the Empire, she’s been hearing whispers of the Officer’s Academy reopening. Seteth already asked her to write to Manuela to see. Manuela stayed behind to take care of the orphans in the city. Dorothea came because if Ferdinand and the others were planning on how to govern Fodlan, this was her best chance at getting someone to help take care of the orphans. 

Dorothea doubts it, but Manuela did enjoy her time at the monastery. Her return to Mittlefrank Opera house showed that her talent was still appreciated far and wide across the Empire. That she still had a future in the opera as she aged. 

“They are trying to coddle me,” Rhea insists from her chair as Edelgard pushes her along. When Edelgard notices her, she gives a small nod in greeting but continues on. Dorothea hasn’t talked to her in person yet, but she overheard Felix mentioning that they trained together as Edelgard wielded the Sword of the Creator. 

Edelgard gives her a look, “Last time you tried to stand, you almost fell out of bed,” she points out ruefully. “The others have good reason to be nervous.” She lowers her voice. “They tortured you for over five years, Rhea.” Her hands clench over the wooden panel of her seat. 

Dorothea walks over, slipping her arm through Sylvain’s expectantly. In the past month, she’s caught up with the others almost as if six months hadn’t passed since they last saw each other. She wishes that she could have fought with the coalition, but her stomach wasn’t made for it. Besides, she could never fight against Petra. 

Petra was there too, seeking independence for Brigid. Claude had made his promises to her as did Ferdinand, but she did not have it in writing and that made her nervous. Her ally in Imperial politics, Duke Gerth, was still under house arrest for his actions in the Empire. She was doing her best to advocate for her country.

“Dorothea,” Sylvain nods. “It’s good to see your lovely face.” He smiles his flirtatious words only a cover. Sylvain was still an incorrigible flirt but he stopped trying to get her into bed with him. He stopped trying to get most girls into bed with him. They walk a distance from Rhea and Edelgard, continuing around the monastery. 

Someone hits Dorothea hard, pushing her into Sylvain. It’s Alexandria, Edelgard’s daughter. She lands on the floor with a thud.

“Sorry!” Alexandria quickly and loudly apologizes, pushing herself off the ground. Edelgard looks back and shakes her head disappointingly. “I didn’t mean to!”

Edward catches up with her and nods his head vigorously. It’s a bit eerie, Alexandria looks so much like Edelgard except her eyes are blue. Edward’s eyes are an exact copy of Edelgard’s but he hides his face more. Dorothea isn’t very good with children despite her work with the orphans in Enbarr. 

Edelgard turns Rhea’s wheelchair around, pushing her over back to Sylvain and Dorothea. “Be careful where you run Alexandria,” Edelgard chides softly. “Some people aren’t as nice as Miss Dorothea.”

Alexandria tilts her head curiously. “Dorothea?” She sounds out, blinking rapidly. “Like the singer?” She asks, her voice rising. Edward looks at her with recognition.

“I am,” Dorothea smiles, charmingly. “Why do you ask?” They introduced the children to her at Enbarr, but they didn’t give the level of reaction that they were doing now. 

A high-pitched squeak emanates from Alexandria, and Edward quickly answers for his sister. “We saw some of your operas.” He mumbles, blushing pink. “You’re really good.” His hands fist into his shirt as he looks down shyly. There’s something like adoration in Alexandria’s eyes. “Our favorite was the mermaid one.”

Dorothea blinks, surprised. That wasn’t what she was expecting to hear. “You’ve seen me perform?” She asks curiously, looking up at Edelgard.

“Fleche takes them,” Edelgard explains quickly, brushing back a lock of hair behind her ear. “They’ve enjoyed all of your performances.” She’s avoiding Dorothea’s gaze right now. Her throat catches, Edelgard knew she was in Enbarr but never made a hint about herself. 

Dorothea kneels down to their eye level. “Thank you,” Dorothea coos as Alexandria reaches for her brother’s hand, cheeks flushed pink. “I’m so happy to meet a fan. Do you like to sing?”

Alexandria shivers. “I’m not a really good singer. Mama is, though!” She looks up at Edelgard adoringly. Edelgard smiles at her, ruffling her hair. Edelgard’s hair is down today as is Alexandria’s. 

Dorothea nods, “She is,” she confirms, softly. “She is a talented singer.” Edelgard came with her to choir practices, and they sang together often. She would never rival a classically trained singer from the opera, but Edelgard did her best.

“You’ve listened to mama sing?” Edward asks curiously, looking up at Dorothea. He looks back at Edelgard.

“It’s been a while,” Dorothea says gently. She doesn’t know how much Edelgard has told them about her past with Garreg Mach, with everyone. But she’ll let Edelgard take the lead. “It has been years since we sang together.”

“You should sing for them, mama!” Alexandria insists loudly, her voice carrying through the courtyard. Everyone freezes; Dorothea winces, she should have seen this coming.

Rhea’s been watching this whole time. “Yes, you should.” Rhea agrees, reaching for Edelgard’s hand. “You should sing the song I taught you.”

“What song, mama?” Alexandria clamors at her mother’s knees. Edelgard sighs resigned to her fate. “What song?”

“It’s a church hymn,” Rhea explains glowingly. “Your mother is an excellent singer,” she informs the children. “There should be a piano on the first floor.” She gazes up at Edelgard, smiling. 

“You play the piano?” Sylvain asks Edelgard, curiously. Dorothea glances at Sylvain; she doesn’t know if Edelgard explained to the children who their father is. But judging by Dimitri’s glower and constant watch over the children, she will bet Edelgard hasn’t. 

“I learned when I was younger,” Edelgard answers brusquely, her hands clenched around the wooden panels. Dorothea recognizes that they backed her into a corner. She reaches for Edelgard, patting one of her hands softly. Edelgard swallows but doesn’t pull away, watching Dorothea all the while. “I’ll play the song,” Edelgard agrees. “Where is the piano?”

Rhea directs them to the piano room, off in a small part of the first floor near the stairs that lead to the second floor. Edelgard pushes Rhea next to the piano and pries open the piano cover. 

She hesitates but pulls off her gloves, revealing scar-covered hands, flexing them carefully. The children wait patiently as she sits herself down. “Cyril has had the piano tuned,” Rhea informs Edelgard quickly as she prepares to hit a note. “Everything should be fine.”

Edelgard shakes her head. “Let me go through some warm-ups first,” she remarks quietly, stretching her fingers. She plays a chord, running it up and down quickly, her eyes trained on the piano. 

The music attracts some onlookers as a small crowd gathers at the open doorway. Most of the music in the monastery comes from the choir teacher. To hear a piano playing in the monastery grabs attention. 

Edelgard sighs before she begins.

_You are an ocean of waves, weaving a dream, like thoughts become a river stream._

* * *

(30th Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1186)

_Flowing like time to the path, yours to climb. You are an ocean of waves._

Sylvain stares, eyes transfixed on Edelgard. The song she played wasn’t an unfamiliar song. He knew the first half of the song as they regularly played it during services. But the second half of the song left him curious.

The glow fades from the room as Edelgard stops playing the piano. Rhea, Seteth, and Flayn’s hair return to normal.

The crowd at the door grew in size and he can see Dimitri waiting at the doorway with the others. Sylvain knows that something happened to Edelgard at Enbarr. Her hair changed color and the last time Sylvain saw that happened was with Byleth. And Byleth turned out to be more than anyone ever expected. 

Edelgard looks exhausted. Rhea backed her into a corner and if it weren’t for her children, he would have expected her to lash out against her. But she didn’t. 

Alexandria crawls into Edelgard’s lap with Edward close behind. The moment Sylvain saw those two, he knew what it meant. He knows what they did before the fall of Garreg Mach, but he wouldn’t have bet the Lance of Ruin on the likelihood of kids. He doesn’t remember if he warned Dimitri to use protection, he always did, but Dimitri was a babe in the woods when it came to intimacy. He turned bright red when Sylvain handed him the oil with a wink and words of wisdom. 

Edelgard presses a quick kiss to their hairlines, hugging them tightly. He’s already warned Dimitri, but if his friend ever expects Edelgard to give up her kids, he’s going to have to fight with her. 

“You were really good, mama.” Alexandria cups her mother’s ear and whispers. Edward nods, enthusiastically. He’s caught Edward watching people a lot, even as a four-year-old. He may look like Dimitri, but that’s all Edelgard in his suspicion. Sylvain’s been working on winning him over. 

Edelgard looks at Sylvain, weary. “I think I’m ready to go to my room now.” She mumbles. Seteth comes over and wheels Rhea out of the room. Rhea’s smiling serenely, having gotten what she wanted from Edelgard. Something’s going on between Edelgard and Rhea. 

He wouldn’t have said that the two were friendly at the monastery- now that he thinks about it, Edelgard might have been avoiding Rhea when they were at the Officer’s Academy. 

But from what Sylvain understands is that they spent three long years in the dungeons together. Something in their relationship changed when they were both down there.

* * *

(31st Day of Blue Sea Moon, 1186)

They’re eating the dining hall when Hubert storms in, almost looking like a beleaguered exhausted bat, his cape flying behind him. Ferdinand gapes at the sight, “Aren’t you supposed to be locked in your room?” Hubert looks at him, bemused by the thought.

He pulls out a roll of parchment, brandishing it. “I found them, Lady Edelgard. I found them,” he repeats darkly, pride coming off him. Edelgard stands up immediately, getting the attention of everyone in the dining hall. 

“Truly?” Edelgard looks astonished. She makes her way over to Hubert, who pulls the parchment over an empty table, revealing it to be a map of Fodlan. Her eyes eagerly rove over the map, following Hubert’s calculations and tracing her finger over the eastern part of Fodlan. 

Her finger stops, and she smiles. “This is good work, Hubert.” She reaches for his cheek and gives a soft kiss to it. Hubert leans into her touch as her fingers brush against his face. “You confirmed it?” 

Hubert nods, “With the two strikes at Arianrhod and Fort Merceus, they’ve revealed at least one of their bases.” He states proudly. He’s gaunt and pale, thinner than they last saw him. 

Edelgard nods, chewing on her lip. “They should only have one base with that much power, and if they have multiple, that’s a frightening thought.” She looks over the map, brushing a lock of hair over her ear. Edward clings to her side as they were finishing dinner together.

The group migrates over to the large map and Hilda remarks, “That’s in Goneril territory.” Hubert’s very large circle locating the base sits in the mountain range is near the house seats of Goneril and Ordelia. “What’s there?”

Hubert and Edelgard look at each other first and then at Hilda. “The people who started the war,” Hubert answers dramatically. Hilda stills, looking at the map. Their base is right in Goneril territory. They’ve been hiding under Holst’s nose all along.

Lysithea takes in a deep breath. “Whatever you’re planning, I want in.” Fire burns in her eyes, the light pink meeting Edelgard’s purple, her hands are clenched into small fists. 

“What are we planning in Alliance territory,” Claude’s voice cuts through, he stands with his hands planted on his hips. 

“An extermination,” Edelgard answers, darkly. “Hilda, as a representative of House Goneril, do we have your permission to enter your territory?” The former emperor stares Hilda down expectantly. 

“Before I grant permission, who are we hunting?” Hilda responds, stiffly. Hubert and Edelgard have revealed little about what they’re planning, and before she promises anything, she needs to know what they’re planning.

Edelgard bares her forearm, revealing a mass of thick and thin scars covering it. “The people who did this.” Alexandria’s eyes go wide as she stares at the scarring on her mother. She looks up at her, silent.

Lysithea sucks in another breath, her eyes never leaving Edelgard’s white hair. Hilda watches Lysithea, monitoring her reaction. “I do, you have permission to enter Goneril territory but I want to know when you plan to do it because I want in as well and I think everyone does too.”

Edelgard nods and looks back at Hubert. “So we’re in agreement then,” Edelgard smiles. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go share this information with Lady Rhea.” She pulls up her skirts and rolls up the map to take with her, walking towards Rhea’s quarters. 

She turns before she leaves, her skirts billowing in the hallway. “And please feed Hubert, he’s been living off coffee for the three weeks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard begins to reconnect with her old friends! Not a lot of outright Dimigard moments but full of pining looks. Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments!


	29. Part IV Chapter III

* * *

(1st Day of Verdant Moon, 1186)

Word about the base quickly spreads across the monastery. TWSiTD has been hiding in the Alliance under Goneril territory no less. Hilda wasn’t pleased about that and neither was Lorenz. He paces in front of her, thinking. They’ll attack at month’s end. 

She should head back to her village soon. She’s earned a good salary as a general in the coalition, but now that the war is over, she can’t expect it to continue. Claude wants her to stay, though. They need her, apparently. 

“Leonie.” Lorenz turns to face her. She watches him, sitting on the table for one bench around the monastery. “Claude wants me to return to Gloucester,” he grabs her hands, asking, “Will you come back with me?” 

Leonie blinks, surprised. “Why?” She’s been to Castle Gloucester once, Lorenz took her with him right before he turned on his father. She wasn’t sure what his father had thought of her- probably vague disgust for her. Nothing pointed, because he wouldn’t have even considered her as an actual person with her thoughts or opinions. She’s been to the nearby county as a mercenary, always seeing Castle Gloucester in the distance. 

“Claude’s suggested that we travel in groups or pairs,” Lorenz muses, continuing to pace. A light blush covers his cheeks, “You and I, we’ve spent a good amount of time together for months, I thought it was only natural that we should travel back to Gloucester together.”

“Sure,” Leonie replies quickly. It made sense. Lorenz housed her when they were in Deirdriu. When they planned their assault on the base, it would be best for them together. “That sounds fine.”

“Good,” Lorenz murmurs. “My father will be at Castle Gloucester, you know.” He remarks, sitting down next to her. His fingers are laced together as he contemplates. 

“I know,” Leonie says back, leaning her back against the table. “It’s been a while since you’ve seen him.” The last time she saw Count Gloucester was when he informed Lorenz that he was betraying the Alliance and would seize the Great Bridge of Myrddin. They spent hours discussing that. 

Leonie had to convince Lorenz that his father was making the wrong decision, something that Lorenz loathed to consider. Lorenz loved his father, but it didn’t mean that he had to agree with him all the time. But his father could not act against the coalition. Lorenz knew that, but he needed Leonie to nudge him along the right path. 

Lorenz makes a small noise in his throat. “It has,” he rests his chin on his knee. But he says nothing more.

Leonie nudges him with her shoulder. “What’s up?” She asks him. He’s usually not this quiet. Actually, his issues are that he often talks too much. “You were right,” she points out. The war ended much sooner than expected. There was the fact that there would be a secret war in the underground, but Lorenz was on the right side. And his father was not. 

Lorenz breathes, “Claude wishes for me to inherit the title of Count Gloucester. I am not sure I am ready for it. Nor am I sure that there should be nobility.” He admits quietly, thumping his fingers against his thigh. Leonie stares- she’s known him for about six years. He’s never shown any self-doubt when it comes to his title.

“Wait- what?” Leonie interrupts loudly. “What do you mean whether there should be a nobility?” Those are certainly words that she never thought would ever come out of his mouth. Admittedly, the caste system was a little fucked up. She never once thought of herself as lesser than Lorenz or her other classmates. But that didn’t mean it should be dismantled.

“I have been talking with Ferdinand,” Lorenz says gently. “We share an affinity for tea, as you know.” Ferdinand was almost as big a tea lover as Lorenz. They would discuss favorite tea blends or vendors often during their time at the monastery. “And he raised an interesting idea of  _ equality _ .” He explains quickly. He looks at her. “How much did it cost you to attend the Officer’s Academy?”

“A lot,” Leonie says automatically. She was still paying it off to be quite honest. Her village saw it as a point of pride, to have one of their own attending one of the finest institutions of Fodlan. Leonie felt the debt as a shackle on her leg. She might have been able to see Captain Jeralt again, but it didn’t mean the money didn’t weigh her down. 

“Exactly,” Lorenz nods. “Ferdinand raised the idea of free education for everyone, all over Fodlan.” He says wildly, his cheeks flushed. “When did you learn to read?”

Leonie winces. Her village wasn’t big enough to have a school. She spent most of her days in the trees. Reading was not her strong suit. She wasn’t quite illiterate, but reading wasn’t her favorite pastime. Eventually, a traveling monk took pity on her village and taught them all to read. 

“How does that relate to a world without nobility, though?” Leonie questions, returning to his statement. The nobles had always been there. Most commoners didn’t think of them until it came for tax time and they had to empty their pockets and their warehouses. 

“I believe that would come later,” Lorenz answers, sitting back down. “Ferdinand pointed out that there could be others like you who did not have the opportunity,” he pointed out. “You would admit that your attendance at the Officer’s Academy was a stroke of good fortune, correct? If everything was equal such as having staples like free education and housing could mean that talent would rise to the top,” he muses quietly. “And if we are to lead Fodlan to a better future, how else can we better prepare?”

* * *

(4th Day of Verdant Moon, 1186)

Lysithea sits down, tired. The books she ordered from Enbarr came in last week, and she’s stayed up late to read them. It wasn’t her best idea as it leaves her tired and exhausted. She’s watching Edelgard for the day and Edelgard walks around a lot, watching her children run around the monastery. 

Edelgard kept to a busy schedule. Somehow, Claude’s wrangled her into planning the future of Fodlan with the others so she does that early in the morning before her kids wake up. They spend a couple of hours with Fleche, their governess, but the afternoons are all Edelgard.

“Are you alright, Lysithea?” Edelgard asks, spotting her leaning against the wall. Her kids are rolling around in the flower fields with Fleche in the distance. They’re good kids, they listen to her and they aren’t constantly screaming inside. They only do that outside in the flower fields. 

“I’m fine,” Lysithea grates out, feeling a flash of pain go through her. Her pains have been getting worse. She doesn’t have much time left. They estimated five more years, but the strain of warfare might have made it worse. She shivers, the pain running through her like a hot coal. 

She watches Edelgard, pale and tired. Edelgard hasn’t said it out loud, but Lysithea knows what they did to her. They did the same to her. Crest Experimentation and Blood Reconstruction.

Edelgard narrows her eyes, looking at her. Despite the same experimentation, Edelgard does not seem as affected as her. At this point, she should have two Crests. When the Crest implantations failed to take, they always started over again. Either you had two Crests or you died. 

She reaches for Lysithea’s sleeve. She’s too weak to stop her and Edelgard pushes it up, revealing the scars she kept so carefully hidden, the same scars that Edelgard has herself. 

Edelgard closes her eyes and murmurs something under her breath. “I’m sorry, Lysithea.” She pulls the sleeve down and opens her eyes again. “I’m so sorry,” she repeats.

“What for?” Lysithea coughs, pain rattling through her chest. It’s not as if Edelgard had any choice in the matter, whether it was the Crest Implantation for either of them. It happened so long ago.

Edelgard shakes her head. “...Is your condition a result of the crest implantation?” She asks quietly, running a thumb across Lysithea’s sleeve. “Is the pain you’re feeling because of the crests?”

Lysithea nods slowly and wearily. The pain is subsiding now. It comes and goes in waves. She’s lucky if she doesn’t feel pain for another week. But it is getting worse. Edelgard gets up from her knees, watching Lysithea carefully. 

She turns, keeping an eye on her children running through the fields. “Wait here,” Edelgard commands briskly, walking away quickly. Lysithea knows that she should follow her. Even though Lady Rhea trusts her implicitly, Edelgard isn’t supposed to move around the monastery unsupervised. But even though the pain is going away, her body still feels too weak to move.

When Edelgard comes back, she comes back with a box of medicine and salves. She pulls out a glass bottle marked with words. “This helps with joint pain,” she murmurs, presenting it to Lysithea. Another glass bottle. “Stomach aches.” She pulls out a small towel. “You can heat this and it helps with back and shoulder pain,” she murmurs. “I drink Green tea for energy and pain. Chamomile when I’m not sleeping well.”

Lysithea stares at the small box of things. “How?” 

“Hubert helped me develop some methods for managing the pain,” Edelgard informs, looking down. “When I had to recover from the Blood Reconstruction surgery, it took me a while. I have a lot of bad days. I’m not completely recovered, but these things help when I’m feeling pain.” She looks up, her purple eyes meeting Lysithea’s light pink. 

“So you were defensive at the Officer’s Academy,” Edelgard muses softly as if to herself. “You didn’t want to show your pain and weakness.” She pushes a lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s not pleasant, having to manage these things, but it makes it a little better.”

Lysithea appreciates her offering these things. But her pain has graduated beyond things medicine can manage. She was operated on a long time ago and she doesn’t have much time anymore. Her parents’ position has been secured. Once the business with TWSITD has been resolved, she’ll return to her family’s estate and live a quiet life until she dies. She’s planned this for years.

“I think my pain has grown beyond treatment,” Lysithea intones, giving the box of things back to Edelgard. “You can’t treat a dying body anyway,” she says bluntly. She came to terms with it long ago. Her body is dying and there isn’t much anyone can do.

Edelgard stares, her voice cold and flat. “What?”

* * *

(7th Day of Verdant Moon, 1186)

Claude goes to the library at least once a week. Despite being ransacked by the occasional bandit, the library still stands in good condition. The bandits had little interest in books, most likely because they couldn’t read. 

He spots Edelgard in the corner with a stack of books on the table. It brings back memories of when they were at the Officer’s Academy. How he used to bother her with questions about Fodlan culture and mythology. She was a goldmine of knowledge that never treated him like he was an outsider. 

She’s frantically flipping through books, muttering to herself as she reads, leaning against the bookshelf. It’s just her in the library today. An oversight because she’s not supposed to be alone by herself. She and Hubert are kept far apart on the monastery grounds- Hubert chose Ferdinand to supervise him, which oddly enough, Ferdinand did without complaint. Her children must be around somewhere else. 

He walks over to her, curious about what she is reading. She must be interested in whatever she’s reading because she doesn’t even react to his approach. He did this dozen of times when they were at Officer’s Academy. “What are you reading?” He asks curiously, looking over his shoulder.

Edelgard drops the book, slamming him against the shelf. She grips the front of his shirt with impressive strength, books pressing against his spin. She slides a dagger to his throat, startled.

The tip of the dagger almost scratches his throat. She tilts her head up as she presses him against the bookshelf, a knee between his legs and a forearm against his chest.

“Sothis!” She curses when she recognizes him. She lowers the dagger from his neck. “Claude, you can’t do that.” She slips the dagger to her belt, hidden by the folds of his dress. She releases him with a sigh, taking a step back. 

Claude coughs, straightening his shirt and then his pants. “Didn’t realize I was that sneaky,” Claude says cheekily. She reacted so quickly, pressing him against the shelf. She had impressive speed.

Edelgard fixes him with a glare, leaning down to pick up the book. “Sneaky or not, you shouldn’t surprise people like that,” she lectures. She walks over, putting the book on the table with the others. She sighs, taking a deep breath and cracking open the same book. 

“You don’t think Garreg Mach is safe?” He asks curiously. He should ask her where she got the dagger from. It’s been well over a month since they moved to Garreg Mach. She has done nothing suspicious, but he’s sure many people wouldn’t be happy to know that she’s armed. 

Edelgard scoffs and glares at him. She tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Did our school year here teach you anything? Garreg Mach is easy to get in and out of.” She says pointedly, still reading through the book.

“So what are you reading?” Claude asks curiously. He pulls a book over. “ _ Interactions of Crests and the Human Body _ ?” He glances at her, his mouth going dry. “What is this for?” He knows that she has two Crests implanted in her, just like Lysithea. 

Edelgard takes a deep breath, exhaling. “It’s personal, Claude.” She mumbles, shaking her head, “There isn’t very much information in the library, anyway.” She says regretfully, shoving the book away. 

Claude sits on the table next to her. There are only five books on the table, but they all have to do with Crests and Crest history. “What’s going on?” He asks quietly. 

Edelgard shakes her head. “Nothing. I need to get into contact with Professor Hanneman, though.” Claude tilts his head, surprised. Hanneman retreated to the Empire after Garreg Mach fell. It was clear the man felt no personal loyalty to the Church of Seiros. Claude hadn’t really heard of him since. “He’s continued his crest research,” Edelgard clarifies. “With the funding of a private investor.” 

“Oh. Private investor?” He says curiously. As Linhardt lamented, Crest research was a poorly funded venture in Fodlan. While Crests were valued, researching them was not. 

Edelgard coughs, her cheeks turning light pink. “I believe the private investor had ties to the Empire,” she explains, gathering her skirts to put away the books back to the shelves. “That is why Hanneman stayed when everyone gathered.”

Realization dawns on Claude. “Edelgard- you didn’t,” he says scandalized with a laugh. “How?” He stares at her. 

“TWSiTD wasn’t interested in running a government. Too much paperwork.” She explains, shoving the books back into the shelf one by one. “Von Aegir was the one who handled the Empire’s affairs, and he was….eliminated. Someone had to do it, so I did.” 

Edelgard hides a smile. “Hubert and I had a competition on how we could spend the budget.” She shakes her head. “Some of it I used for good things. Like a census of Adrestia. The data from that should be sent to Garreg Mach in a week. Better roads for merchants to travel on. A hospital system for Enbarr. Funding for performance services.” she adds. “Others... I used different things. Like gifts for the generals.” She hides a smirk, closing the book in front of her.

Claude blinks, all of this sounding very familiar. “Gifts for generals?” He tests the words out in his mouth. “Wait. The gift for Weathervane was that you?!” How much work did Edelgard do in the background?

Edelgard smirks and hides another smile. “Took you long enough,” she teases. “It was a large budget,” she states calmly. “It was easy to allocate the funds or have them go missing. Laundering money is practically a tradition in the Empire.”

“That’s really hot,” Claude remarks, enthralled. Edelgard stills at the compliment, looking away. “Sorry.” He apologizes, “But it is.” 

Edelgard shrugs, looking down at the stack of books in her arms. “We kept the men as funded as possible. But it would have been better for them if the war never started in the first place.” She says bitterly, shoving the final book back into the shelf. She leans her head against the shelf. “But TWSiTD had to be stopped,” she murmurs. “Who else knows who they’ve experimented on.”

* * *

(12th Day of Verdant Moon, 1186)

When Dedue and Ashe walk into the greenhouse late in the day, they hear Edelgard chiding her children. “Alexandria, you cannot just rip the flowers out, you have to treat them better.” 

The two children are covered in dirt, and Edelgard has not fared much better. Loose strands of hair falling from her face. She looks up when she senses their presence, smiling grimly. She’s currently trying to convince her daughter not to manhandle the flowers. Edward carries a small shovel in his hand as he plays in the dirt. 

Dedue and Ashe twitch at the sight. Edelgard greets them with a curt nod and focuses on removing Alexandria’s tight grip around a flower pot. The flowers haven’t sustained very much damage, but that might be because of Edelgard’s efforts. 

Alexandria pouts but slowly releases her grip with a frown. Edward continues building a dirt mound. 

Dedue clears his throat. “Does she want a bouquet?” He asks quietly. His deep voice echoes across the greenhouse. Alexandria looks at him with big hopeful eyes. She peeks a glance at her mother, who sighs. 

“If you would, Dedue.” She breathes. She ruffles Alexandria’s hair with a smile. “It’d be greatly appreciated.”

Dedue leads Alexandria over to where the prettiest and healthiest flowers are. It’s just after spring, but the flowers are still in full bloom. Edward stays behind with Edelgard and Ashe as he continues to make his dirt hill. 

Dedue leans down to make himself smaller. “What kind of flowers would you like?” He asks gently. He has spent little time with Alexandria or Edward. He spent a very long deal staring at them when he was first introduced to him, but they seemed to think nothing of it. 

“Um,” Alexandria hems, glancing back at her mother. “What do you think my mama would like?” She whispers, she wrings her hands into her dress. 

Dedue stills for a moment. “Carnations,” he says finally. At the Officer’s Academy, she always favored carnations when they finished weeding the greenhouse. “Would you like pink carnations for her?” 

He shows her the light pink carnation flowers. One of Edelgard’s earliest gifts for him was a flower book that showed the meanings of particular flowers. He knows what this one means. He clears his throat. “We can also pair them with white carnations as well,” showing her the white carnations. 

Alexandria’s eyes grow big. “They’re really pretty.” She murmurs, admiring the flowers, feeling the soft petals.

“We can pair them with baby’s breath,” he mentions, leading her over to where the baby’s breath grows. “To surround the carnations with this as well.” He looks over at her. “Do you like it?”

Alexandria nods quickly, looking over the selection of flowers. Dedue gets the garden shears, choosing the nicest flowers for the bouquet. He chooses the fullest flowers with the greenest of leaves, ensuring that while the bouquet looks full, it will not be too thick for Alexandria to carry. 

Alexandria watches him curiously as he prepares the flowers for Edelgard, finally wrapping it with a white ribbon around the base of the bouquet. He presents the bouquet to Alexandria, asking. “Do you like it?”

She nods quickly again, giggling over the flowers. “They’re really pretty,” she gushes, taking in the bouquet. She sniffs the flowers. “They smell nice too.”

“Shall we take it to your mother?” He offers the bouquet for her to hold, but she shakes her head.

“I drop things,” Alexandria says very seriously, her hands hidden behind her back. “I don’t want to drop that. It’s too pretty to drop.”

Dedue nods and they walk back over to the others where Edward has built an impressive dirt castle with pots lined around it. He looks completely satisfied with himself. There’s dirt-smudged all across his face, Dedue resists the urge to wipe it off.

“Mama!” Alexandria cries out, throwing herself into Edelgard’s lap. She looks up with a bright smile. “This is for you!” She grins brightly.

Dedue presents the bouquet to her with a slight smile. Edelgard takes the bouquet, her fingers grazing his. “Thank you. They look lovely.”

* * *

(15th Day of Verdant Moon, 1186)

It came as a bit of a surprise to Linhardt when Professor Hanneman wrote to him. He did not expect the famed Crest Scholar to return to Garreg Mach, but it seems that both Seteth and Edelgard wrote to him regarding his return. It seems that a part of their discussion was to reopen the Officer’s Academy. The nobility of Fodlan had to be educated somewhere and Professor Hanneman, for all of his eccentricities, was a good professor.

Professor Hanneman was just unpacking his things in his office when Linhardt arrived to greet him. Because of his travels, Linhardt has not had the opportunity to keep up with his research and discoveries. He’s curious as to what Hanneman has discovered. 

He’s already discussed it with Caspar and the others, but now that the war is over, he hopes to continue his Crest research. He still has no intention of inheriting his father’s position, but Claude has promised to fund him, one way or the other. Speaking of his father, he’s currently under house arrest, but Linhardt has no intention of seeing or writing to him. 

“Professor Hanneman?” Linhardt strolls in with the door unopened. Professor Manuela who arrived a couple of days ago is there as well. And they’re talking without yelling. A rare sight for the two of them. “Ah, Professor Manuela, it’s good to see you.” She’s reopened her hospital wing but from what Dorothea says, she might not stay very long.

“Linhardt,” Professor Manuela smiles brightly. “It’s good to see you. We should catch up some time, over tea, perhaps? Dorothea tells me you, Caspar, and Bernadetta had quite the experience.” People kept saying that. Yes, it was rather strange that neither he nor Bernadetta returned home. Most probably thought he was too disinterested to do so. At the beginning of the school year, Bernadetta was afraid of her own shadow. But that didn’t mean that everyone had to comment on it.

Bernadetta showed no interest in returning home, and Caspar was avoiding every mention of his father, who was still entrenched in a small castle in Western Adrestia. King Lambert’s forces were having a troublesome time breaking their siege. 

“I’ll see you later, Hanneman,” Professor Manuela trills, leaving them in his office. “We should get dinner later this week.”

Professor Hanneman watches her go and shakes his head. “Even after five years, she has yet to change.” He has changed little either, greyer in his beard, but Professor Hanneman still looks very much the same. Perhaps he has more reading lines in his brow, but he doubts Professor Hanneman cares very much. He brightens when he sees Linhardt. “It’s good to see you, Linhardt,” he grins, a smile behind his bushy mustache. “Please call me Hanneman, we are colleagues, are we not?”

Linhardt tilts his head curiously. While he and Professor Hanneman shared an interest in Crestology, his research paled in comparison to his. He barely had any time to research Crestology on the field, but he was able to track when a Crest appeared in a family where there was no crest at all. 

He did it most amongst the Alliance, where the Crests were often coveted in the noble families of the Alliance and rarely appeared amongst commoners. There were a lot of mixed Crests in the Alliance, such as Lysithea’s Crest of Gloucester. Of course, Lysithea was a rarity, bearing two Crests at once. “Colleagues?” He says questioningly. While he would gladly take up the opportunity to study with Professor Hanneman, he would not go so far as to call them colleagues.

Professor Hanneman frowns. “Yes, Emperor- Edelgard mentioned it in the letter she sent. You would assist me on my Crest research if that’s alright with you.” Linhardt frowns, it was alright with him but why was Edelgard calling the shots?

A knock on the door interrupts his thoughts. It’s Edelgard, wearing a red dress and black tights underneath. “Professor Hanneman,” she greets softly. “Have you settled in?” She looks at the many boxes Professor Hanneman brought from his estate.

“Your majesty,” he dips, bowing. Linhardt represses a frown as does Edelgard, who watches them both carefully. “I still have some unpacking to do, but it won’t be long.”

Edelgard nods, “Very well. I should get going then,” she states awkwardly, turning to leave. “It was good to see you both.”

“Why Hanneman?” Linhardt asks curiously, looking at Edelgard whose fingers wait by the door frame. He didn’t think Edelgard had any contact with Hanneman from what Petra and Dorothea showed. Edelgard was kept secluded n the palace. How would she have been in contact with someone like Professor Hanneman who stayed out of Enbarr? Professor Hanneman watches her carefully as well.

Edelgard clears her throat, taking a step back into the room. “Well, Professor Hanneman has always wanted to research the nature of dual Crests, correct?” She looks away from the two of them, avoiding both of their gazes. “I thought I would allow him to do so as Lysithea refuses.”

Linhardt takes a deep breath as does Professor Hanneman. They stare at Edelgard, who avoids their gaze. When she does look at them, it’s with a sad, regretful smile. She raises a hand, flaring the Crest of Seiros. With the other, she flares the Crest of Flames and that’s when Professor Hanneman gasps. 

“Professor Byleth never allowed you to explore the Crest of Flames in-depth, correct?” Edelgard says, liltingly. She lowers her hands and the Crests disappear from the room. Professor Hanneman can’t stop staring at her. “I can give you that. Plus, you can research how two Major Crests interact with each other in one body.”

“Two Major Crests?!” Hanneman gasps, staring. Edelgard’s gloved hand curls around her wrists as she nods, her eyes closing. Linhardt stares. Lysithea was the first case of someone having two crests at the same time, but the odds of there being another were rare. But Lysithea had the Major Crest of Gloucester and the Minor Crest of Charon. How did Edelgard end up with two Major Crests, one being the Crest of Flames that hadn’t shown up for centuries until Professor Byleth arrived?

Professor Hanneman continues to stare, his mouth agape. Edelgard offers a small smile, icily. “How much blood do I need to offer?” She asks, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. She opens her mouth but catches herself. “How much do I need to offer for it just to be me you’re studying?”

She waits, her hands crossed behind her hands. Linhardt realizes she’s completely and utterly serious. Lysithea never liked him or Hanneman very much because they wanted to research her dual crest nature. But here Edelgard was, offering her blood willingly. He glances at Professor Hanneman, waiting for a response. 

“And what would be the goal for this Crest research?” Linhardt asks curiously. He doubts that Edelgard would allow them to poke and prod her for no reason. She has to have an end goal for this.

“Crest removal.”

* * *

(18th Day of Verdant Moon, 1186)

Bernadetta hides her face in her hands, she’s just met with Edelgard and the others. Her mother isn’t doing well. Apparently, Hubert poisoned her father years ago. She never heard. She doesn’t care about him. It’s her mother that worries her. If her mother dies, then Bernadetta will be expected to become the next Countess of Varley. And she really doesn’t want that. She already promised Raphael that she would go back with him to Alliance territory. 

Raphael finds her in the courtyard and soothes her. He has always been so supportive of her decisions, but this one, Bernadetta, isn’t sure what to follow. But if the others need her to become the next Countess Varley, there isn’t much she can do. 

She doesn’t care for being the Minister of Religion. She doubts they’ll expect her to do that. But Varley serves as the primary source of timber and minerals for the Empire, let alone Fodlan. The transition will already be hard enough. Her father had been well into his sixties when he died. But to have a different person or not to even have a person at all to inherit the role will send the entire territory into chaos. 

It’s not what is best for her, but what is best for Fodlan.

Raphael murmurs low and encouraging words for her ears only. There’s only so much he can do when she spirals like this. And she is spiraling. At least she hasn’t retreated into her room yet. If she did that, then all her growth would have been for nothing. She’d still be the same scaredy-cat Bernadetta she was when she first arrived at the Officer’s Academy.

Raphael’s word stop and he stiffens. She sees the black boots of Edelgard under her bangs. “Bernadetta?” Edelgard asks softly. “Do you have a moment?”

Raphael’s hand tightens on her back and then relaxes when Bernadetta nods. “I do.” She looks up at Raphael. “Can we talk in front of Raphael?” Bernadetta tightens her grip on Raphael’s hand as it engulfs her own.

Edelgard nods before continuing. “I hope our words at the meeting did not upset you,” she says carefully. “It was not our intention.” She looks away, avoiding her gaze. “But given your mother’s condition, we needed to broach the topic. In truth, I had hoped not to place that particular burden on you,” she says ruefully, a small smirk on her lips. “But the others felt it was necessary.” 

She looks at Bernadetta, her light purple eyes piercing through her. She hesitates, “May we walk?” She asks politely. 

Bernadetta nods and walks with her, her hand still tightly held by Raphael. He walks on the other side of Bernadetta as Edelgard continues to speak. 

“I am sure you know how important Varley is to the Empire and Fodlan,” Edelgard remarks, her gaze straight ahead. Bernadetta feels her palm get sweaty and tense. She knows how important Varley was. Her father liked to boast about it during dinners with guests. 

Timber is used all across Fodlan, especially Varley Timber. They use it for furniture but also ships and buildings. She saw how different Enbarr was compared to Deidriu, most likely built with wood from Varley. The buildings stood taller and grander than any building Bernadetta had seen in Fodlan. 

“There needs to be a steady hand on Varley for the production of timber as the rest of Fodlan rely on it,” Edelgard continues, staring straight ahead. “But I fear that such a position may overwhelm for you.” Her gaze meets Bernadetta’s hesitant one before Edelgard’s gaze darts forward. Her children are running around the courtyard under the supervision of Caspar’s aunt, Fleche.

“You’ve grown so much,” Edelgard murmurs, “And I fear that resuming your family’s position may stunt your growth.” Bernadetta freezes, watching her. “Ferdinand and I have discussed it in length,” Edelgard adds. She wets her lips nervously. “But nobles, particularly in Adrestia, have become too comfortable with their power. We're taking steps to disrupt that.”

Bernadetta stares at her, as does Raphael. “What are you saying?” She asks quickly. Something catches in her throat and grows there, not uncomfortably but foreign.

Edelgard meets her gaze and holds it. “If you are comfortable with it, we would like to discuss an appointment of a government position in Varley, rather than inheritance as Countess Varley. If it’s an appointment, you can resign with ease, but if you choose to inherit as the next Countess Varley, it makes the transition just as difficult as the one we are facing now.”

Bernadetta stares, Raphael’s hand in a tight grip of her own. She swallows. She understands what Edelgard is trying to offer her. Varley needs someone to lead it. Any disruption now, especially just after the war, would cripple Fodlan for years if not decades. 

Despite hiding in her room, Bernadetta understands how Varley works, she’s familiar with the people who operate the mines and the woods. If she takes the position now, she can train her successor and they can lead Varley in her stead. She’s not running, she’s buying time for this new government. “Alright,” Bernadetta plasters a smile on her face. “When do we begin?”

* * *

(22nd Day of Verdant Moon, 1186)

When Dimitri and Claude open the doors to the training field, they hear the clash of blades and grunts. It’s Edelgard and Felix, training together as Edelgard wields the Sword of the Creator. Over several discussions with Lady Rhea, Edelgard finally complied and wielded it during her training. Aymr sits on the size, waiting for us. They trained together during their academy days, and a pang of pain runs through his heart.

Edelgard knocks Felix down, a knee on his chest. “Give, Felix,” Edelgard grunts, pushing down with her knee. Loose strands of her long hair fall over shoulders, nearly touching the ground. Felix thrashes around under her knee and Edelgard presses down harder. She grunts, her knee digging into his chest. “Give.” She repeats, breathlessly.

Felix’s fingers tap against the ground, a Faerghus side for surrender. Spotting it, Edelgard straightens up and hauls him back up with a small grin. Felix brushes the dirt off, picking his sword up from the ground. “How are you feeling with it?” Felix asks curiously, as Edelgard lifts the Sword of the Creator. She leans it against the wall with care, watching it.

Dimitri had heard that Felix and Edelgard were training early in the mornings together as Edelgard battled to gain control of the Sword of the Creator. A pang goes through Dimitri’s chest when he thinks of its previous wielder, Professor Byleth. Perhaps had they been by their side, the war would have ended quickly and he would have been reunited with Edelgard.

Edelgard shrugs. “It’s different,” she muses, leaning against the wall. “Perhaps it’s because they are different weapons, but they still share the same feeling of power when I use them.” Dimitri can understand. It took him some time to become comfortable with Areadbhar. 

Mostly because he understood what his father was trying to convey to him when he wielded the Heroes Relic. She stretches, a sliver of skin revealed as her shirt rides up. Dimitri can see the faint lines of scars that cover her stomach. His hands clenched in anger as he thought of TWSiTD. 

They had manipulated their entire year at the Officer’s Academy; they most likely had something to do with his uncle’s attempt on his father’s life. Cornelia had been one of them. His uncle and Cornelia had been close in the later years. 

They will move on to Shambhala soon, the name of the base in Goneril territory. A good portion of their classmates have traveled to Alliance territory to prepare for their attack. They are operating as if TWSITD has spies everywhere, just as they did at the Officer’s Academy. They are working in secret as best they can. 

“I’ll be ready for when we leave though,” Edelgard says darkly as she notices Claude and Dimitri. She doesn’t smile or greet them, she just keeps looking forward. Glenn and Ingrid left a week ago for Daphnel territory, to speak with Judith about the “possibility” of reconciliation. It’s all about getting things into motion as they prepare the assault. They will leave in a few days.

Felix smirks as he prepares his sword for another clash. Dimitri leaves with Claude, feeling out of place.

* * *

(24th Day of Verdant Moon,1186)

Petra goes with Dorothea, Lysithea, and Cyril to Ordelia territory to prepare an attack on TWSITD. She’s written to Duke Gerth, who seems well despite being under constant watch and house arrest. Perhaps it is better than being dead, Petra muses. She wonders what his life will be in this new world. 

Ferdinand has promised freedom for Brigid, as they have been subjugated as a vassal state for many centuries. This may be the first time they will experience true freedom and it will be under her rule. Her grandfather remains healthy, however, so there is no need for her to return to Brigid just yet. She wants to see this through the ending of TWSITD that has caused so many hardships for her friends. 

They’ve traveled with a small company, fitting for the scion of House Ordelia. But when they leave for Goneril in the dead of night, they will be alone. They come up over the hill and see the seat of Ordelia in the distance. A small castle with the Ordelia banners by the gate. 

“So that’s your home?” Cyril asks curiously, staring at the castle. Perhaps it is because Petra has spent much time in the Empire where the castles are large and grand, but she likes the simplicity of Castle Ordelia. It has walls for defense for the village, but some castles she has seen could be called ornate.

She thought Cyril would have stayed at Garreg Mach by Lady Rhea’s side. But he chose otherwise. 

Lysithea nods and announces, “My parents will not be there,” she informs them quickly. “Judith of Daphnel called them for a meeting, so they are at Deidriu for the time being. I wrote to them a week ago letting them know my plans and they said that there were things they had to attend to in the capital.”

Cyril almost looks disappointed, but they continue. They’ll only be here for a few days before they leave for Goneril territory and eventually Shambhala. In truth, Petra never saw Those Who Slither in the Dark around the capital. She had seen Lord Arundel and thought nothing of him. 

Duke Gerth refuses to speak about Those Who Slither in the Dark and their influence on the Seven and the Insurrection. But from Edelgard says, she seems to think they were there every step of the way. Ferdinand is not sure as well, his impression of his father changed very little over the years, but at age 9, he did not notice any strange behavior. Neither did Hubert, whose visceral reaction to his father speaks all. But he did not suspect his father of working with people like Those Who Slither in the Dark until the last month of their school year when he was called back to the capital without Ferdinand.

Hubert was allowed out of his house arrest once it became clear that he could easily slip out of the room undetected. He was not allowed to meet with Edelgard, but that seemed to matter little to him. He had tea with Ferdinand most days as he researched further into Those Who Slither in the Dark. He believed that they had to have multiple bases across Fodlan. Shambhala would not be the only location they worked out of. 

Over a small dinner, he told them what had transpired that month he was in Enbarr. The Emperor was not well. Ferdinand was to inherit the throne as his father had planned for him. But Those Who Slither in the Dark wished to have Edelgard for their experimentation. So Hubert was tasked with bringing her home using whatever means necessary. Dorothea slapped him quite heartily after that, which it seemed that Hubert did not blame her. The guilt on his face was clear. But Edelgard did not seem to blame him for it. 

When they enter through the gates, the streets are lined with merchants who greet Lysithea cheerfully. They offer her small trinkets and gifts, which she refuses all of them, intent on getting to her home. When they reach the walls of the castle, the gates open for her.

“Lady Ordelia,” the steward of the castle greets her sternly when they enter the courtyards. “It is good to see you well.”

“Edgar,” Lysithea greets him in return as she dismounts from her horse. “This is Cyril, Petra, and Dorothea. They are to be my guests before we leave for Goneril territory,” she says stiffly. Dorothea gives a quick wave that goes unnoticed by Edgar.

“I see,” Edgar bows. “I will have suitable quarters prepared for them.” Their guard continues to dismount and lead their horses to the stables without instruction. 

“Edgar,” Lysithea commands. “Have the rooms set up near my quarters, if you would?” Edgar stiffens and then bows, signaling he has heard his lady’s commands.

Lysithea says in an undertone after he leaves. “We must make plans before we leave for Goneril territory, I’d prefer to have you close by.”

Petra nods, understanding. The palace in Enbarr was vast. It took her many days to figure out where she was, and she hadn’t even explored the entire palace in all the years she had been there. Only someone like Ferdinand or Edelgard would truly be at ease there.

* * *

(27th Day of Verdant Moon, 1186)

“Mama,” Alexandria whines, clinging to her mother. “Do you have to go?” Edward says nothing, but even he is hanging onto Edelgard’s sleeve. Edelgard had warned her children at the end of the month, she would leave for Goneril territory, but they still had a powerful reaction even now. 

Edelgard sighs but sits down, pulling them into her lap. She presses a small kiss against their hair. “I have to,” she murmurs. “It’s very important to me.” Hubert had found the area in which the javelins of light came from, but not the exact location. They had people in the area searching, but they would have to move fast. This was the last day they could go without missing the mission. Everyone else had already gone before. 

Edward grabs his sister’s hand and whispers. “We’ll miss you,” Dimitri observes them. He curls into his mother’s lap, resting against her chest. 

Alexandria wipes the tears pooling at her eyes and nods quickly. “We’ll be good for Miss Fleche, we promise.” 

In the two months they’ve been here, they’ve explored the greenhouse, tearing up the flowers that Dedue has announced acceptable. They’ve gone through the library, already finishing  _ Loog and the Maiden of the Wind _ amongst others. They’ve gone to the stables, greeting every single horse, wyvern, and pegasus there will a cheerful smile and a whole apple. Fleche will have her hands full with the two of them.

Edelgard smiles softly, hugging them tightly. “I’ll miss you too. I love you.” 

* * *

(30th Day of Verdant Moon, 1186)

They’ve combed through the mountains near Goneril with a fine-tooth comb and have found nothing. Ingrid almost wants to give up. It’s not too cold in the mountains, but as Ingrid stares over the range, it seems incredibly vast and unforgiving. Glenn didn’t come with her, and it makes her feel even more lonely. But it was best, they weren’t sure what kind of enemies they would face in Shambhala.

They regrouped the day before and have spent most of it searching for their base. Hubert implied that it would have been underground. The basement where Lady Rhea was found supported it. But there is no sign of them. 

“Over here!” Bernadetta’s sharp eyes find an etching near a tree on the mountain. It’s the sign of TWSITD, one that was found on the doorway that led to the dungeon.

Hubert smiles at Bernadetta before raising a hand to it. He closes his eyes and hums. “I can feel the magic running through it. They’re here, Lady Edelgard.”

Edelgard nods. “Now the question is how to open it,” Edelgard murmurs, darkly. She has the Sword of the Creator slung to her side. On her back, she has Aymr. She looks up to Hubert, a frown on her mouth. “Any thoughts?”

“Let me try, Lady Edelgard.” Hubert pushes his hand against the engraving. He narrows his eyes, drawing the Crest of Flames, and then pushes a Miasma through it. Ingrid doesn’t think it will work, but next to them, the wall opens up. It’s dark and damp. Only now does Ingrid realize that Hubert drew it with his blood.

They stare into the bottomless depth, unlit. Edelgard readies the Sword of the Creator as she takes the first steps inside. Hubert and Bernadetta are close to follow. Who knows what they’ll find in there?

What greets them is an underground cavern with buildings that almost rise to the top. It’s lit, but not by flames. It’s incredible. Ingrid’s seen nothing like it. But the scene surprises neither Edelgard nor Hubert. Instead, they’re pushing everyone to move forward.

Thales is the center, surrounded by his men and tall titans of a creature. “For thousands of years, we have existed underground, living on only that we might someday see our vengeance realized. Here and now, that vengeance is finally within our grasp. There is but one thing left to do. Destroy them! Damn those who stand with that arrogant goddess to oblivion, away from the world of the living!” Thales roars as the men charge. Now, this Ingrid is more familiar with. She readies Luin for battle as she faces down Thales.

Around them, those tall beings crackle into life, the sound of wind whirring through the air. Ingrid narrows her eyes. They look like Demonic Beasts, but they aren’t. They’re something else. They remind her of what they saw in Arianrhod with Cornelia. But they stand no chance against them. 

But even after one is defeated, another rises. With so many in this underground chamber, Ingrid realizes that this must have been one of their principal bases. This is where most of their forces lay. If they win here, they can start their shadow war against TWSiTD, as they look to eliminate their influence from the continent.

* * *

(30th Day of Verdant Moon, 1186)

After the Titanus are destroyed and Thales subjugated, Edelgard and Hubert go through his papers. Their ruse worked. They caught Thales off guard and his men. Dimitri keeps Areadbhar at his neck at all times. He hasn’t yet, but Dimitri looks like he wants to stab him through the face. 

Claude doesn’t blame him. It seems like Thales is the ringleader of TWSiTD. He survived when Kronya and Solon died. He was there when the Imperial forces tried to raid the Holy Tomb. 

They’re keeping him alive for important information. If they can’t find information here, at the very least, they can question him when they are out of Shambhala. It didn’t take them very long to capture this fortress, but there is something eerie about this place. It doesn’t reek of death like the dungeons below Enbarr, but there is something strange. 

Claude steps over the many dead bodies to the small office that they found Thales locked in. There are papers strewn all over his desk, written in strange characters. “Can you read this?” He asks curiously as Edelgard and Hubert are concentrated on the reports.

Edelgard nods as Hubert continues to read. “Hubert taught me,” she answers quickly. “He learned before I did.” That made sense, Hubert won’t say much, but it seems that he got involved with TWSITD just before the attack on the Holy Tomb. Hubert knew as much as they did before that last month of the school year. They skim through the papers, trying to find important information.

“Lady Edelgard,” Hubert says with a low voice before he hands a pile of paper to her. She stills, reading the first page, and then the next and the next. The last page crumples in her fist before she smooths it out. She runs through the papers again, as if looking for something. Her brow furrows as she strides quickly over to Thales, papers in hand.

“Where is Hector’s file?” She demands, standing in front of him. Ferdinand stares at her and then at Thales, standing next to her. “Where is it?” Her voice cracks as she yells. Everyone’s watching them now as they watch Edelgard confront Thales.

Thales looks at her and then smirks. “There isn’t one,” he hisses. “Your fool of a brother died before we could experiment on your siblings,” he spits out. “He tried to protect them. He died doing it.” Edelgard stiffens, the papers crumpling beneath her fist. Claude realizes what those papers are now. They’re files on Edelgard and her siblings. 

He had read that there were 11 Hresvelg children. He had thought they had died because of court intrigue, just like in Almyra. But there was something much more sinister at work in the Adrestian court. 

“He was strong, wasn’t he,” he mocks. “Perhaps if he was there, we would have needed to use all of your siblings. Perhaps he would have done.” His face turns cruel and belittling. “But you survived,” he notes darkly. “Perhaps if you had been there, we wouldn’t have needed to use them either.”

Papers flutter to the ground as Thales’s head falls to the ground, decapitated quickly by Edelgard with the Sword of the Creator. She sheathes the sword and storms off, hiding her face. Hubert runs after her as Thales’s body turns to ash. 

Dimitri watches her and then kneels to pick up the papers before they are stained by Thales’s black blood. Hubert comes back, looking pale and saying little. 

“Who was Hector?” Claude asks Ferdinand, who tends to Hubert. The tall, foreboding man shivers for a moment before collecting himself. His white-gloved hands fisting in his pants. 

“Hector von Hresvelg was the oldest of Edelgard’s brothers,” Ferdinand notes quietly, looking over Hubert. “He was talented and strong. People thought he would lead the Empire back to its former glory.” He shakes his head, “he died in the months after the Insurrection,” he says mournfully. Ten children died in a matter of years. Not even the Almyran court could boast such a record.

Claude turns and follows Edelgard’s tracks leading outside of the chamber. It leads him to the outside world, a small balcony on the mountain. It’s covered by trees, but you can still see the ground and the sky. Edelgard’s feet dangle off the balcony as she looks through the forest. Her eyes are tear-streaked as the Sword of the Creator sits next to her.

“He was the best of us,” Edelgard whispers, her hands in the lap of her red dress. She wore the full regalia today, her hair bound up in her horned crown. She said that she wanted Thales to see her, to know that it was she who defeated him. “Hector taught me how to fight, he gave me my first battle axe at 7.” She shakes her head. “I was used to them being dead,” she murmurs. “Every single damn letter that came from the Empire. I accepted it.”

“But then you went back,” Claude answers, sitting down next to her. “And then you realized that their deaths weren’t natural.” She leans against him, her head resting on his shoulder. 

“I should have been there,” Edelgard states softly. “I should have been there with them.” Claude can feel his shoulder getting damp but doesn’t even dare to look.

“What good would that have done, Princess?” Claude says back. He slips his hand into hers, squeezing it comfortingly. “They wouldn’t have stopped at you and you know it.” He had his suspicions about Lysithea and Edelgard, but every time he brought it up with either of them, it was as if he hadn’t even spoken. 

“Can you take my hair down?” Edelgard asks quietly after a moment of silence. Claude nods and she turns around, exposing her slim neck to him. Claude’s helped with Hilda’s hair dozens of times, so he’s used to this. With shaking fingers, Edelgard guides him to where her hair is tucked underneath the horns. From there, he unravels her buns, leaving soft curls as her hair bound so tight.

She shakes it freeingly. “This was Hubert’s idea, you know.” She says with a small laugh as she stares at the crown. “He said that I had to look striking.” 

“You looked striking,” Claude reminds her, handing back her pins. “When I saw you at Garreg Mach, it wasn’t hard to see who you used to be.” She caught his breath when she stepped out of the carriage. He was surprised to see her still alive, but the image she presented was as a confident Emperor. 

She looks down but offers him a small smile. “Thank you, Claude, for everything.”


	30. Part IV Chapter IV

* * *

(2nd Day of Horsebow Moon, 1186)

Caspar stares at the unopened letter in front of him. He’s resting his chin on the table, staring at the flat envelope. It’s been sealed with the stamp of Bergliez emblem, and he only knows one person with that emblem. It’s his father, and he carries it around constantly. His father used to say that the only way someone would get the Bergliez crest was if he was dead. Caspar hopes he’s not dead.

Because he’s a general with the coalition, no one has been going through his things. He heard that Edelgard had to step in for his father. She wrote a letter to him to surrender, and he listened to her. Now he’s been placed under house arrest like the other Adrestian nobles as Ferdinand and the others decide his fate. But why would his father write to him?

Linhardt sits down next to him, resting his head on his shoulder. “Are you alright?” He asks quietly. Linhardt’s been busy studying the things they found in Shambhala. Hubert gave Linhardt and Hanneman a crash course in reading Agarthan so he’s been holed up in his room. Given how pale he is, this might be the first time he’s felt the sun in a couple of days. 

“I got a letter from my dad,” Caspar chokes out, waving it around. His dad didn’t write letters. He was a man of action. The only letter he ever received in the past six years from him was that letter right before the attack on Garreg Mach. He was running around the Alliance for the past five, so that wasn’t fair. 

Linhardt hums, his father is under house arrest too. Linhardt hasn’t said if his father has sent him a letter either. But Caspar doubts it. Lin would have told him otherwise. “Have you read it?” Linhardt whispers, Caspar can feel the puffs of air on his neck. 

“I haven’t.” Caspar isn’t sure what it will say. As the second son in his family, he would never inherit anything. His father had no expectations for him, other than not to die a fool’s death. He shares a meal with Fleche every once in a while when she isn’t watching Edelgard’s children. She hasn’t received word from Randolph, and she’s starting to get worried. But he hasn’t talked to his father. 

“What’s wrong?” Linhardt breathes. Caspar shivers, his hair standing on the back of his neck. He reaches for the letter, holding it. “Do you want me to read it for you?”

Caspar freezes, nodding. Linhardt warms up a little as he uses a small Fire spell to melt the seal, allowing him to peel the letter open. It’s silent for a bit as Linhardt reads the letter.

“What does it say?” Caspar asks quietly. The possibilities in his mind are endless. Is his father disappointed in him for deserting the Empire? About how he tricked the soldiers in his home and destroyed it? Or is he proud of him for being on the winning side? 

“Your brother is dead,” Linhardt answers, wrapping an arm around Caspar’s shoulders. “He died last year,” he buries his head into Caspar’s neck. “He’s proud of you. He’s heard that you’ve made yourself a trusted general in the coalition.”

Caspar stays quiet; he buries his head into his arms, thinking. He’s not sure what he should say to any of that. He’s not even sure if he’s going to write to his dad. “You okay?” Linhardt whispers into Caspar’s ear. 

“I don’t know.” Caspar answers, his face burrowed into his arms. “Can I tell you how I feel about it later?”

* * *

(4th Day of Horsebow Moon, 1186)

“You haven’t seen her?” Dimitri asks Dorothea softly as she stands in front of the doorway leading to the piano. He and the others were meeting to discuss the future of Fodlan, and the meeting’s been over for twenty minutes. 

“Nope!” Dorothea trills softly, beaming. Ferdinand watches her warily. They were meeting for hours, but they still need Edelgard for something, apparently. 

Dimitri nods but walks away, disappointed. She slams the door, revealing Edelgard next to it. She’s sipping wine, enjoying some peace as her children run around the monastery with Fleche and Flayn. Flayn loves Edelgard’s children- she’s fascinated by them. 

“You don’t need run interference with him,” Edelgard says, bemused. She takes another long sip of wine. They do this every couple of days where she and Edelgard catch up over wine and snacks. 

“Need to? It’s more of a want to at this point,” Dorothea answers, sitting down with a flounce. Edelgard stifles a laugh, continuing to drink. Fleche knows where to find Edelgard if she needs her but Edelgard deserves to rest too. Ferdinand knows Edelgard’s behind her too, but Ferdinand’s learned how to lie over the years. She blames Hubert for that.

She peers at Edelgard through her lashes. “So how are you doing?” When they came back from Shambhala, Edelgard was distraught. She didn’t speak on the way back to Garreg Mach. When she saw her children, she pretended nothing was wrong. 

But Dorothea knew her friend, even if it had been five years. Edelgard was hiding something.

Edelgard plays with her wineglass, some honey wine Dorothea bought from the merchants. Edelgard prefers something sweeter, but Dorothea got to choose the wine for today. “I-” Edelgard sighs, her long hair draping over her shoulder. She looked good with brown hair but the silver hair, it suits her. “Can I talk about it later?” She asks quietly, putting down her wineglass. 

Dorothea nods. Thales had been someone to Edelgard, someone she hated. Before they attacked the base, they agreed that any TWSiTD they saw, they would do their best to keep them alive for further questioning. Edelgard removed his head when he mentioned her family. She violently removed his head.

She brings out the file of music. Even though she’s at Garreg Mach, she still needs to think about the season ahead of her. Eventually, she must return to Enbarr with the Mittlefrank Opera. They’re taking a break right now on the account of Enbarr being attacked only a few months ago. 

The coalition is committed to Enbarr’s recovery, so the Mittlefrank Opera company took this season off. Besides, they didn’t have any performances ready on account of the war. They’re leaning heavily on the large donation made a couple of years ago. 

“How are the children you found in Enbarr doing?” Edelgard asks quietly, running a finger around the rim. Dorothea looks up at her softly from the sheets of music. She found some excellent music in the palace, and Edelgard gave her permission to bring it. 

She left the orphans with Manuela in Enbarr. But since Manuela came to Garreg Mach herself a couple of weeks ago, they’ve been under the care of some members of the company. They’re looking after them now. Dorothea gets a weekly letter from them. 

“They’re fine,” Dorothea smiles brightly, bringing up the letter. “The opera house is getting a little cramped it seems, but we’ll make do.” The children don’t complain, and Dorothea knows why. Why complain when you’ve got a roof over your head? But she can do better for them. It’s partially why she’s here. She can raise the issue with Ferdinand and the others. She knows that Ferdinand values her opinion. 

“I see,” Edelgard answers softly, her eyes dart up to Dorothea’s. “Ferdinand and I have been talking,” she starts, her gaze dancing around. “We’ve been talking about converting the palace in Enbarr into an orphanage.” Dorothea stares, her green eyes meeting Edelgard, holding her gaze. 

Edelgard plays with her wine glass. “There isn’t much of a royal family anymore,” Edelgard blurts. “The seat of government is moving to Garreg Mach, the palace is just going to sit empty now.”

Dorothea stares in silence. “But it’s your home,” Dorothea protests. But she can see the orphanage now. The palace in Enbarr has hundreds of rooms. They could easily house the orphans of Enbarr there and even more. 

Edelgard shrugs, “It’s not much of a home,” she mumbles. Dorothea winces, Edelgard hadn’t lived there since she was nine and most of her time would have been in the dungeons. “Funding will be the main issue, but I think I can convince the others it’s worth it.”

“What will you and the children do?” She asks curiously. Edelgard no longer holds the title of Emperor. It’s going to take a bit of convincing but from the whispers, she’s heard from Ferdinand and Edelgard but unification is in the cards for Fodlan. Dorothea does not want to know how the other nobles will react. She can imagine that they won’t be happy. 

“I might travel with them,” Edelgard murmurs wistfully with a smile. “I’ve never had the chance to explore Fodlan, not like all of you. It’d be nice to see it.” Her gaze is far away. They might involve her with planning Fodlan, but it’s dangerous for her to keep any power. Ferdinand and the others have done their best to keep any news of her children from the public, but word travels fast.

“Thank you, Edelgard,” Dorothea says, taking Edelgard’s hand and squeezing it comfortingly. 

Edelgard nods, pulling away. “The logistics aren’t completely in place. Funding will be the main issue, as will finding caretakers. Enbarr requires some serious renovation, there are far too many packed into the city without the proper infrastructure to support it. Do you think Professor Manuela would be comfortable with a role in the new government? Something like overseeing the medical system?”

Dorothea stares, Edelgard had always been the more politically minded in the Officer’s Academy but she had assumed it was because of her role as Dimitri’s fiancee. But this went beyond that.

“You’re going to overwhelm her,” Ferdinand says, opening the door with a smile. He sits down, snagging an empty wine glass for himself. “Keep those questions in mind for the next meeting, won’t you?”

Edelgard rolls her eyes, handing him the bottle of honey wine. “I’m keeping my options open,” she retorts quickly. “She knows Professor Manuela best.” 

He hums, pouring himself some wine. He sips, wrinkling his nose. He looks down at the wine, “Not very sweet is it,” he remarks to himself.

“You can provide your own refreshment if you please,” Dorothea snaps, taking her bottle of honey wine from him. Both of them prefer sweeter drinks. “No more politics, please.” She requests, setting her wineglass down. “I’d like to have some singing today,” she beams at Edelgard, who groans. 

Dorothea opens her file of music, looking down. The Mittlefrank Opera will choose their next performance, but Dorothea has to keep her singing ability sharp to make sure she’s ready for the next season. There’s a piece of music that she’s had her eye on for a while. She hands the sheet of music over to Ferdinand. He’s taught her how to play the piano, but she’s still a beginner and as a perfectionist when she performs, she’s not ready. 

Ferdinand reviews the music before he steps to the piano. She found it in one of the rooms and asked Edelgard if she could bring it. Edelgard said yes, and so here they were.

“Ready?” Dorothea asks when Ferdinand sits down. He nods and Dorothea gets ready to sing.

_Reach for my hand, I’ll soar away. Into the dawn, Oh, I wish I could stay._

Edelgard stiffens when she sings, observing with her fists clenched. Dorothea misses a word and frowns, stopping in her singing. Ferdinand misses a note and he frowns. Like she said, a perfectionist.

Edelgard clears her throat, delicately. “May I?” She slides next to Ferdinand, looking at them both. She removes her gloves, her fingers brushing against the keys slowly. Dorothea nods and hands the lyrics to Edelgard and she plays with quiet confidence. 

_Reach for my hand, I’ll soar away. Into the dawn, Oh, I wish I could stay._

* * *

(6th Day of Horsebow Moon, 1186)

Felix scoffed when the boar approached him on his search for Edelgard. She was avoiding him, and the boar didn’t seem to get the hint. She’s not comfortable with him around the children. She darts around the edges of the monastery with them in the flower fields, the greenhouse, the library. They spar three times a week, just like they used at Castle Fraldarius. 

But he helps him find her. Dimitri said that Dorothea didn’t know where she was, which was most likely a lie. In the months they’ve been at the monastery, Edelgard has returned to her friends. She and Annette with Mercedes make sweets for the children at least twice a month. She reads Ingrid’s and Ashe’s old stories to them nightly. He can hear Dorothea singing with her at least once a week. She’s most likely in the piano room, as Sylvain calls it with Dorothea. 

_As the rain falls on the path, I chase your shadow. I don’t feel a single drop or the ground below._

She sits behind the piano, playing the music softly. He hears Dimitri’s breath catch when he sees her. Dorothea’s watching her with a thoughtful look in her eye, as does Ferdinand, who is only a few steps away from her. Felix can’t help but feel that they are intruding on a private moment for Edelgard. There’s something about these lyrics that means something to her.

She continues to sing, alone in her world. Her eyes stick to the piano, playing the melody. Sylvain told him that Edelgard could play the piano, but he hadn’t expected this. But she was good at keeping secrets from them. 

_Here in cherished halls In peaceful days, I fear the edge of dawn Knowing time betrays._

The song ends and Edelgard’s hands remain by her sides. She doesn’t move, and no one says anything. Dimitri’s leaning on the door for support as he watches Edelgard.

“You wrote that,” Dorothea concludes softly as Edelgard pulls away from the piano. “You wrote that song,” she says shakily. “I went through your papers,” she lifts a hand to her mouth. They weren’t able to find Edelgard’s office in Enbarr. They weren’t able to find it until Edelgard told them where it was. It didn’t look like a private room for herself. 

“Deirdre wrote it,” Edelgard responds, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “I found it in her things and polished it, I suppose.” She slips her white gloves back onto her hands, hiding them in her lap.

Felix blinks, he doesn’t know the name, Deirdre. It sounds like an Adrestian name, though. He watches her carefully, Sylvain stands next to him.

“Your older sister,” Ferdinand murmurs, taking Edelgard’s hand into his. Dimitri twitches but says nothing. “She was always a talented singer,” he muses. He had heard that Ferdinand knew Edelgard before she came to Fhirdiad. But he wasn’t sure how much.

“She wanted to join the Mittlefrank Opera,” Edelgard says with a laugh, bitterly. “Father got her six months of lessons with Professor Manuela for her 15th birthday. She was so sad when they ended. I think she cried for days.” She shakes her head slowly. “It helps,” she tells Dorothea. “There are days where I feel like I’ll forget them.” She clenches her fist, stating, “I think that’d be worse than never talking about them.”

* * *

(6th Day of Horsebow Moon, 1186)

Claude hears laughing in the music room. He just finished talking with Hilda about the future of the Alliance. He still has told no one about Almyra. He isn’t sure how she’ll take it.

They look into the room, spotting a pink-faced Edelgard with Dorothea, Annette, Petra, and Mercedes. “Hilda!” Edelgard cries out, lifting a half-empty wine cup. “You’re here!” She stands up, wobbling, and runs over to the pink-haired girl.

She stumbles, but Claude catches Edelgard, who is giggling and flushed slightly red.

“Claude!” Edelgard cheered lightly, looking up and patting his face, smiling. She smoothed back a lock of his hair. “Look Dorothea, Claude’s here!” She looked back to the beautiful songstress who had a goblet of wine next to her, who raised it to Claude’s affronted expression. Edelgard had discarded her red coat, leaving her in her dress and knee-high black boots. She had her hair down and Claude could look over the top of her head.

She leaned into his chest, laying her head down, breathing deeply. She closed her eyes, nuzzling slightly. She looks back at Claude, her light purple eyes meeting his. “Did I ever say thank you for coming for me? To anyone?” She asks breathlessly. “Did I ever say how grateful I am that you all stopped this stupid war?”

She sweeps her hand at their audience, which includes Dorothea, Annette, Mercedes, and Hilda. “Because if I haven’t, I’m sorry because I really, really am.” She fists her small hands into Claude’s chest. It’s late in the day. The children must be sleeping because Edelgard never drinks.

She puts her head back down, her white hair almost to Claude’s hands. “And I’m glad you didn’t kill me or Hubert,” she murmurs. “Because I would have been very, very sad if you did,” she hiccuped, “kill Hubert.”

At this, Claude narrows his eyes. Hubert is no longer under house arrest since they destroyed Shambhala. But it’s only been because of what he did for Ferdinand and Rhea that Hubert hasn’t been executed for his crimes. Hubert certainly didn’t earn any friends while they were at the Officer’s Academy. “Why is that?” Claude ventured, “When he is the one who kidnapped you to Enbarr?”

“What-” Edelgard peers at him. “No- no, Hubert didn’t kidnap me.” She looks away to the side, Dimitri has entered the room with Felix, Sylvain, Dedue, and Ingrid and has been watching them with a curious look on his face. She looks adrift as she stares into Dimitri’s blue eyes with sadness. When Claude nudges her a little, she turns her focus back on him.

“I asked him to take me there,” she confesses. She blinks rapidly, a dreamy look entering her face. “I begged him.” She takes a step back, meeting his eyes. Edelgard tilts her head, “I begged him to take back to Enbarr, he didn’t want to, but I pleaded with him. My father was sick.”

“I wanted to see my father,” Edelgard smiles wistfully, taking a few steps back. “I wanted to see him because he didn’t have much time left.” Her expression turns sad, her face drooping a bit, her fingers playing with her sleeve. “I wanted to let him know that he wasn’t alone in the world, that I was still there...with him. That he wasn’t the last Hresvelg.”

Tears began pricking at her purple eyes as she stutters. “I wasn’t able to, but I wanted to so badly.” She shakes her head, her long white hair drifting about. “They started the experiments and once they were over-he was gone. So, don’t blame Hubert, he was just trying to help me, like always. He didn’t know, he didn’t know what they were going to do to me.” She raises her left sleeve, revealing the scars that laced up and down her arm. “It’s not his fault. This is not his fault,” she exhales deeply. 

She whirls around, smiling, her emotions turning on a dime. “Dorothea, darling. May I have more wine?” Claude shakes his head vigorously behind her back. 

“Edie, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Dorothea responds, taking his cue. “Why don’t you come and sit next to me, hm?” She brings the swaying Edelgard over the piano seat, propping her up against the piano. Dimitri stays near the doorway with Felix and Dedue as Ingrid and Sylvain make their way into the room.

Edelgard lays her head on Dorothea’s shoulder, breathing deeply. She smiles ruefully, looking at Dorothea. “Petra’s really lucky to have you,” she stares into Dorothea’s eyes. “And you’re really lucky to have her too,” Edelgard confesses, softly, lurching forward. Dorothea braces Edelgard by the shoulders to stop her from falling flat on her face on to the chair. 

She wraps her arms around the songstress, pulling her close. “I really missed you when I was in Enbarr,” Edelgard states quietly. “I missed everyone but I couldn’t-, I couldn’t talk to anyone, except for Hubert.” She wrinkles her face up. “But Hubert felt so guilty about everything and he can’t do everything for me, that’s not fair to him.”

* * *

(9th Day of Horsebow Moon, 1186)

Claude wakes up to whimpering next to him. Edelgard shivers in her sleep, small sounds coming from her mouth. “Please,” she begs quietly. “Please.” He observes her. Edelgard told him that as long as she wasn’t screaming, not to wake her. She doesn’t know that he’s a light sleeper, so every time she has night terrors, he watches her. 

He’s not sure how this started. If people knew, they would probably be concerned. But Edelgard’s never used her womanly wiles to convince him to do anything. She’d probably stare at him if she tried. 

But he knows, and she knows, this isn’t out of love. This is just a want for physical affection. He’s tumbled with a couple of men and women in Deirdriu, and Edelgard hasn’t slept with anyone since Dimitri.

No one knows that they’re doing this. Not even those closest to Edelgard. Hubert might have an inkling, but he’s got his hands full with Ferdinand. He cards his hands through Edelgard’s hair. It’s softer than it looks. He’s never run his hands through Lysithea’s hair, but he has to imagine they’d be similar. Edelgard won’t say a word to him about it, and Lysithea gets angry when he asks. But there’s something there, he knows it. No one’s talking to him about it. 

She wakes up with a gasp, and Claude quickly removes his hand from her hair. Soft moments of intimacy are rare for them. It’s only been a week since Edelgard started sleeping over, too tired to move to her room. Her children stay in another room, sharing a bed between the two of them.

Her eyes are closed, and her hands clenched. TWSiTD is on the run and their bases are being hunted down. They don’t send everyone and judging by the papers that Hubert recovered from Shambhala, the existing bases are smaller and less-populated. 

What they find there is promptly taken to Linhardt and Hanneman for research. And so the hunt continues, exterminating the Agarthans from the land. 

When Edelgard doesn’t say anything, her arms cover her face. Claude prods, “You okay?” He asks quietly. He knows it’s not a helpful question, but talking it out is helpful, or so he’s been told.

“Everyone keeps asking me that,” Edelgard murmurs, her arms still draped across her face. “And honestly, I don’t know.”

Claude nods. Hilda likes to bother him when she sees that he’s having trouble. It’s her way of showing that she cares, even though most of her attention is focused on Marianne nowadays.

“You and Ferdinand have been talking a lot lately,” Claude takes the conversation in a different direction. Ferdinand seems to be a like-minded individual with Edelgard when it comes to reforming to Fodlan. Claude wants open borders, but those two want something more. “What’s up with that?”

Edelgard cracks one eye open to glare at Claude. “Most of it is to ask if he’s ever going to ask Hubert on a date not involving tea or coffee.” She pushes herself off the bed, her long hair draped over one shoulder. Claude resists the urge to run his hands through her hair. “But we talk about other things.”

“Does Hubert even know that they are dates?” Claude asks skeptically. From what he knows about the man, emotional intimacy is not his forte.

“Probably not,” Edelgard admits reluctantly. They refuse to talk about how Edelgard came to be in Enbarr, but Claude would bet money that Hubert was involved somehow other than her drunken confession the other day. Just like he was involved with Ferdinand. “But Ferdinand doesn’t believe that Hubert would say yes if he did.”

“Do you think Hubert would say yes?” He knows that Edelgard is trying to misdirect him, but he’s also curious about what she thinks about the developing Hubert and Ferdinand relationship. It’s not obvious unless you are looking for it. 

“I don’t know,” Edelgard admits. “I’m not sure if Hubert is willing to give up his duties for Ferdinand, even though he should,” Edelgard states, pushing her hair away from her face. 

“Understandable,” Claude says. He’s never met someone so dedicated to one person. Except maybe Dedue, but even Dedue softens for Ashe and Mercedes. Hubert reluctantly warmed up to Ferdinand, even if he hadn't recognized it. “So what do you and Ferdie talk about?” He presses again. 

Edelgard sighs and Claude suppresses a small smile. If Edelgard thought she was able to get out of his questioning, she was wrong. “This is more Ferdinand’s pet project,” Edelgard explains, looking at Claude. “But he’s not wrong, I support him completely in this.” 

She takes a deep breath. “Have you ever heard of a meritocracy?”

* * *

(10th Day of Horsebow Moon, 1186)

Mercedes goes on walks with Dimitri every day in the afternoon when they can. It’s something she insisted on when they returned from Shambhala. What she saw down there shook her. It shook many of her friends and allies, Dimitri especially. She talked to Annette about breaking the engagement with Dimitri, but to her shame, she still hasn’t spoken to him about it. He’s busy and distracted, but it’s not an excuse for her. 

Edelgard has introduced Edward and Alexandria to her and Annette. They bake at least twice a week; both her children have sweet tooths to rival Edelgard’s. She still partakes in the sweet treats, but her children have immense appetites. Even little Edward has smiled when he bakes. 

They’re walking by the flower fields outside of the monastery. She doesn’t enjoy being cooped up in there. There are still painful memories for her. Every single time she saw Jeritza, it hurts to think she saw Emile. He never spoke to her or looked at her. He never told her who he was. The very air around him felt familiar, but she never knew. 

Dimitri stiffens, stopping in their walk. Her arm is looped around his and he hears the children before she sees them. “Mama!” Alexandria’s high-pitched shriek echoes as she sees a brown hair girl bobbing in the knee-high wildflowers. She spots Edelgard’s silver hair on top of the field, sitting on a picnic blanket. Edward is sprawled across her lap. Claude is with her, as are Ashe and Dedue. 

Edward sits up as his sister rushes out of the flowers with fistfuls of ripped out flowers. Dimitri instinctively watches them, following her up the field. He pulls his arm out of Mercedes, leaving her behind. 

Edelgard shakes her head when Alexandria presents the small bouquet of wildflowers to her, the roots still attached with clumps of dirt. “Alexandria,” Edelgard admonishes, “What did I say about ripping out flowers?” She stands up, holding up her skirts and letting the dirt fall outside of the picnic cloth. She sits down primly, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. 

Alexandria looks sheepish as Edward tugs his sister down to lean on her. “Not to do it,” she mumbles, looking down at the ground. Edelgard cups her cheek and smiles at her understandingly. She kisses her on the cheek, brushing a strand of hair away from her ear. 

Edelgard sits down at the edge of the blanket, meticulously removing the roots from the flowers. Everyone watches her curiously as the pile of flowers with long stems continues to grow.

Edward looks up, spotting them. He watches Dimitri suspiciously, leaning against his sister. He wraps his arms around Alexandria, resting his head on her shoulder. Alexandria continues to watch her mother. 

Edelgard weaves the flowers together, her thin hands moving quickly. She tucks the end of the flowers near the start of the braid, revealing a small flower crown for Edward. She plops it on his head with a smile and Alexandria gasps, admiring it. 

“I’ll need more flowers to make one for you, sweetling,” Edelgard explains, revealing the small number of leftover flowers. “As much stem as you can get, alright?” Alexandria nods eagerly, slipping out of her brother’s hold. She races off to the wildflower field, her long brown hair flowing in the wind. 

“We’ll go make sure she doesn’t rip them out by the roots,” Ashe says, following the small girl. Dedue reveals a small garden shear from his deep pockets. They disappear into the meadow, following Alexandria.

“Flower crowns?” Claude asks curiously, standing next to her. Edelgard nods, pushing another lock of silver hair behind her ear. 

“My brother, Kieran, taught me,” Edelgard explains, not looking at him. Mercedes notes a dark spot on her neck, almost hidden by her collar. “He loved flowers,” she notes softly.

Edward looks absolutely adorable with the flower crown on his head. Mercedes wishes that there was a way to imprint the image into her mind. Edward is a sweet boy. He's much quieter than his sister, but it doesn't mean he's not as sweet. Alexandria is just louder with her affections, often draping herself over her mother and brother. 

Alexandria runs back with a bushel of flowers in her lap, all trimmed nicely to perfection. Dedue and Ashe follow behind as she dumps the flowers into Edelgard's lap with a smile. She sits down, kneeling next to her mother. Edward slides over, resting against his sister. Edelgard chuckles as she braids yet another flower crown for her daughter. When she's finished, she places it delicately on Alexandria's head with a smile. Alexandria looks at Edward, who nods appreciatively. 

But Edelgard is left with an armful of flowers in her lap. She raises a delicate eyebrow at her daughter. "Alexandria, I believe you grabbed too many." She remarks, lifting the bundle of flowers from her lap.

“No!” Alexandria protests. “This is for your flower crown, mama! So we match!” The flower crowns that Edelgard braided for them are much smaller than Mercedes’ would expect. Being older, Edelgard’s flower crown would take more flowers.

Edelgard sighs, braiding yet another flower crown. She takes her time with this one, the flowers tightly wrapped together. Her tongue sticks out as she handles an odd end. When she finishes, Alexandria smiles. Edelgard places the flower crown delicately onto her head, the white flowers matching with her hair.

“You look pretty, mama. Like a fairy.” Edward whispers, Alexandria nods quickly in agreement. There’s still a smaller bundle of flowers in her lap. “Should we go get more?” There aren’t enough flowers to make another flower crown.

Edelgard shakes her head, “I think we’ve taken enough flowers from the field already.” Edelgard notes, “It’s already Fall. I don’t know if there will be enough flowers to make another one. I’ll make a bracelet instead.” 

Her fingers move quickly, braiding the flowers once again. Before she reaches the end, Edelgard leaves it unfinished. “It’s too delicate to force onto someone’s hand,” she remarks, running a finger down the braided flowers. “Do you want it?” She asks Edward and Alexandria, who shake their heads no.

Alexandria looks around the four of them, judging them solemnly for the honor of wearing her mother’s flower bracelet. Her eyes stop on Dimitri, who stiffens under her stare. “Do you want it, Mister?” She asks him loudly, standing up to him.

Dimitri swallows as his Adam's apple bobs. His eyes dart around as Edelgard sighs under her breath. He eventually nods awkwardly.

“Stick out your wrist,” Edelgard commands, lifting the straight braid of flowers. Dimitri does so rigidly and Edelgard wraps the flower bracelet around his wrist, tucking the end of flowers under the braid. Their eyes meet and Mercedes decides. She won’t be marrying Dimitri. 

* * *

(15th Day of Horsebow Moon, 1186)

It’s Sylvain who spots Dimitri first, sitting on the steps with his head in his hands. They haven’t told the King or Lord Rodrigue and it’s eating at her. Sylvain’s been counseling her because Sylvain’s has always been good at keeping secrets. But Ingrid feels guilty. She’s never been a good liar but that kind of information shouldn’t be sent through a letter.

“Hey, Dimitri.” Sylvain sidles up to next Dimitri. “Are you doing okay?” He asks curiously. Dimitri has been working with Claude and the others. They rarely see him nowadays. He’s often watching Edward and Alexandria from a distance. But Ingrid can’t imagine learning about them without being surprised. It doesn’t help that Edelgard keeps her distance from Dimitri. 

It’s all very understandable. Edelgard is the captured former Emperor. She might have been Dimitri’s fiancee at one point, she might have been their friend. But she wasn’t anymore. She couldn’t be anymore.

“Mercedes broke the engagement,” Dimitri says hoarsely, keeping his head in his hands. Sylvain stiffens but says nothing.

“I’m sorry Dimitri,” Ingrid moves to comfort him, but he brushes her off, shaking his head.

“It’s fine,” Dimitri responds. He looks up, his eyes flat. “It had always been an engagement out of convenience. Now that we know her adopted father is dead, Mercedes no longer needs to worry about being married against her wishes. She can choose what she wants to do next.”

Ingrid blinks, surprised. Dimitri and Mercedes were never affectionate. But Dimitri is taking it better than expected. “So what happens next?” She asks curiously.

Dimitri shrugs, “I’m not sure.” He grimaces, “Edelgard has made it clear that she has no intention of Edward or Alexandria becoming the next King or Queen of Faerghus, despite being of my line.” Ingrid winces, his children still don’t know that he’s their father. 

Edelgard kept that information from them. And she has always been stubborn. He’s going to have to get married. Because he’s been engaged for long periods, Dimitri hasn’t had to face the bombardment of marriage offers from Fodlan nobility. This won’t be fun for him.

“That sucks,” Sylvain breathes. “Did Mercedes say anything else?” He asks with an edge in his voice.

Ingrid and Dimitri both stare at him. “No, she didn’t,” Dimitri intones. “But I trust Mercedes. We both agreed that we would do this to protect one another. Now that her adopted father has passed away, we no longer need to be engaged. I have no desire to force anything upon her.”

Sylvain nods, making a small noise in his throat. Ingrid eyes at him strangely. She’ll peel the answers from his skin later. “I’m sorry, Dimitri.”

* * *

(18th Day of Horsebow Moon, 1186)

“Ignatz!” Raphael calls out, spotting his old friend. Ignatz is preparing his things as he moves to Gloucester soon. Lorenz will use him as an artist for his family first most and then as an artist for the Leicester Roundtable. Lorenz says that this is a turning point in history and it must be documented. All Ignatz wants to do is paint. 

“Letter from Maya for you.” He hands him the folded up letter attached to the family owl. It’s faster for Maya to send a bundle of letters to Garreg Mach. The family owl they have is old. They don’t want to wear her out from too many journeys across Fodlan. When they finish writing their letters, they’ll send her back.

“Thanks, Raph!” Ignatz says cheerfully, tucking the letter into his overcoat. He spots the worried look on Raphael’s face. “Everything okay?” He asks curiously.

Raphael waves him off. “Just thinking about the next steps,” Raphael answers. He was there when Edelgard and Bernie talked. After they spoke, Bernie had a new fire underneath her. Raphael was wondering if she would return to the Alliance with him like she said she would.

Ignatz nods. Contrasting to how he felt when their year at the Officer’s Academy was ending, Ignatz feels much more comfortable. Perhaps it’s because he has a path set before him. Or the knowledge that he can pursue his dream of art. Ignatz will not have to worry about his family’s connections with his newfound position in the heart of the Alliance. Lorenz will have his family taken care of.

Linhardt and Caspar will stay together, like always. As will Bernadetta and Raphael. Ignatz feels lonely, knowing that he will be apart from them. But he has heard rumblings from the others they intend to have a reunion every couple of years. The bond between everyone seems much closer than Ignatz ever dreamed of.

“Bernadetta is thinking of returning to Varley County, correct?” Ignatz voices out loud. When he saw Bernadetta by Raphael’s side at the inn Maya and Raphael’s grandfather ran, he was surprised. Bernadetta was nobility; he thought it wouldn’t have been taken lightly that she fled from the Empire and her duties. But no one ever came looking for her.

Raphael nods slowly. Ignatz watches his old friend carefully. He has felt the odd man out of the five of them. Thankfully, he’s able to spend most of his time painting the landscape or sketching by the fire. But Raphael and Bernadetta have bonded, not just in the five years, but also at the Officer’s Academy. 

He doesn’t want to think about how Raphael will be if Bernadetta goes back to her home. Raphael tucks his chin to his chest. “She is,” he confirms, his hands by his side. Bernadetta is most likely tending to her favorite flower- the pitcher plants. She enjoys gardening and flowers. When she was stressed, if she didn’t retreat to her room, the forest is where she went.

The new government will need Bernadetta at Varley. They cannot risk the supply of timber and minerals. If production was to slow down, it would wreak havoc across Fodlan, not just across Adrestia. They need her there. But Raphael wants to be with her.

“Have you asked if you can come with her?” Ignatz asks boldly. Leonie’s going with Lorenz too to Gloucester. She’s already been there twice with him. Ignatz isn’t sure if she’s aware of Lorenz’s intentions, but for Lorenz’s sake, Ignatz hopes he makes them clear to her.

Raphael gapes at him. Ignatz threads his fingers behind his back. Bernadetta certainly wouldn’t refuse Raphael. She might even be overjoyed if he came with her. He shouldn’t meddle, but Raphael isn’t the kind of person who should be sad. He shouldn’t stay sad, especially if there is a simple way to resolve it. “I’m sure she’d like you to be there,” Ignatz says comfortingly.

They’ve gotten used to when Bernadetta is panicking, but Raphael is the only one who can coax her through it. Ignatz and the others can sit with her through the storm, but she usually shuts down emotionally. He’s never said this about anyone, but Ignatz hates Count Varley. “She’ll have to transition into the role, right? I bet she’d love to have you there.”

Count Hvering and Count Bergliez are still alive. Linhardt and Caspar won’t be taking over their father’s roles like Bernadetta has to do for her mother. But Ignatz doubts that they’ll be there with Bernadetta. Linhardt has already thrown himself into Crest Research with Professor Hanneman and Caspar will stay close by wherever their research takes them.

“That’s a good idea,” Raphael mumbles, shoving hands into the pockets of his trousers. Bernadetta stitched them for Raphael- most of the clothing he found was a size too small, so Bernadetta added some extra fabric to make them fit. “I’ll have to talk to Bernie about it, but I’m sure you’re right, Ignatz. You usually are.”

* * *

(22nd Day of Horsebow Moon, 1186)

Dimitri finds Edelgard in the pavilion, sipping some tea by herself. He looks around. This is usually the time he finds her debating with Ferdinand over afternoon tea. He’s not sure how they still have a mind for politics after spending the morning with each other. “Edelgard,” he clears his throat and greets loudly. He’s been on the wrong end of surprising Edelgard before, and it’s not something that he’d like to repeat.

Edelgard stiffens, only momentarily, and then nods. “Dimitri.” She drawls, still sipping her tea. “How are you?” She asks gently, offering to let him sit down. It’s been less than a week, but the news surely has spread across the monastery about him and Mercedes. He didn’t lie to Ingrid, he’s grateful that Mercedes brought the topic of their engagement up. They weren’t engaged for the right reasons and now that Mercedes was free, she could choose who she wanted to marry.

“I am well,” Dimitri answers, sitting down in the wooden chair. He didn’t spend very much time in this pavilion. Professor Byleth offered him tea frequently, but he wasn’t as fond of tea as some of his classmates, so he refused often. “And how are you?”

“Well enough,” Edelgard answers stiffly, her legs crossed at the knee. She wore mostly dresses at this point. When she wore trousers, it was to train in with Felix. “Alexandria and Edward are in the greenhouse with Dedue and Ashe, if you’re looking for them.”

“I see,” Dimitri murmurs. He doesn’t go to the greenhouse, though. He chooses instead to watch Edelgard carefully. Unsurprisingly, she’s changed over the years. The white hair notwithstanding, Edelgard had a thinner frame at Enbarr. Over the months, she has regained her strength. “Where is Ferdinand?” He asks, looking around. 

The former Imperial heir is hard to miss and is usually found in the company of Edelgard or Dorothea. Ferdinand has somehow gotten closer to Edelgard. Dimitri stamps out the jealousy. If Edelgard chooses Ferdinand as a companion, it is her right.

Edelgard sighs and rolls her eyes. She uncrosses her legs and stands up, leading Dimitri over the bush. “Look,” she murmurs, pointing. He spots the long red hair of Ferdinand behind a rose bush…and the black hair of Hubert over the top. Dimitri gasps and looks down at Edelgard, who has a sly smile on her face. “Took them long enough,” Edelgard says tartly. Happiness dances behind her eyes as she looks at them fondly.

Dimitri stiffens, noticing their situation. When he came over to the bush, he pressed himself close to Edelgard. She isn’t trapped there with him, but he looms over her. She’s so small, he notes. He’s able to look down at her and if he moved his arm the right way, Edelgard could not move away. He can almost smell her perfume wafting through the air. But it’s only for a moment and Dimitri steps back, allowing Edelgard to pass him.

“Are they together?” He asks her curiously, looking back at Hubert and Ferdinand. Over the long nights, Ferdinand rarely spoke of Hubert. He focused most of his tales on his childhood with Edelgard in the capital.

Edelgard nods, “Finally.” She says with a sigh, settling herself back down into her chair. “Far too many hours spent on the two of them,” she notes, taking another sip of her tea. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and shares a smile with Dimitri, looking at him over the rim of her teacup. “It’s good for them,” she murmurs. “Life’s too short to not be with someone you love.”

Dimitri’s throat catches as he stares at her longingly. “I agree,” he chokes out. “It is far too short.” His hands clench in the fabric of his pants. There’s so much he wants to say, but not the courage for it. He holds her eyes for a moment.

“I’m sorry to hear about Mercedes,” Edelgard looks away, her gaze darting elsewhere. Her fingers wrap around the teacup delicately. “It must be difficult seeing her around the monastery.” Mercedes spends most of her time in the kitchen with Dedue and Annette. 

But he still greets her politely when they cross paths. After all, they were engaged for almost three years. He wrote to his father a day after Mercedes broke the engagement. He hasn’t heard quite yet. His father still doesn’t know about Alexandria and Edward.

“Not at all,” Dimitri says confidently. “I wish nothing but the best for Mercedes. She was in a difficult position and I’m pleased that isn’t the situation any longer.” Edelgard raises a thin eyebrow at him, questioningly. Dimitri coughs, the story of how Mercedes fled the Empire is well-known, even amongst the three houses. But he is sure that Edelgard won’t speak of it to anyone. It has been over four years since the events occurred.

“She fled the Empire,” he explains quietly, so they won’t be overheard. “Her adopted father wanted to engage her to someone unsavory. So she came to the Kingdom and I-” his hands flex underneath the table. Annette wrote to Felix, who brought the situation up to him. He was happy to help. “I needed someone to be engaged to… so we came to an arrangement.”

Edelgard swallows, her teacup rattling slightly before she sets it down. “So you weren’t in love with her?”

Dimitri meets her gaze and holds it. “Never.” 

* * *

(23rd Day of Horsebow Moon, 1186)

Lorenz walks up to Claude, who’s musing over a map of the Alliance. This isn’t going to be taken well, but he needs to leave for Almyra soon. Once everything has stabilized, he’ll turn control over to Lorenz and Hilda and they can lead the Alliance.

It hasn’t been announced, but they’re setting things into motion to have a more unified country of Fodlan. Far too long have they been divided over geographic lines. Garreg Mach will serve as the capital of this new world. Dimitri will most likely be its King. He’s suggested something called a parliamentary system that allows people to elect representatives.

There needs to be more structure in Fodlan. For far too long, the nobility has got away with taxing their people while not providing the infrastructure needed to support the peasantry. Even Lorenz agrees with Ferdinand.

Speaking of Lorenz, “Claude, you must speak with Edelgard,” he says, flustered. Claude raises an eyebrow, rolling up the map. Lorenz spends most of his time with Leonie and Ferdinand nowadays. Something about Edelgard must have set him off.

“What’s the issue?” Claude answers, putting away his map in his makeshift office. Everyone taking part in the government's restructuring has its place. It makes things neater and easier to find things. That being said, his office is a mess, as always.

“She- is, she’s inciting the female population of Garreg Mach,” Lorenz says aghast, his cheeks going pink with shame. Claude stares, he hasn’t heard Lorenz use this kind of language since the early days of the Officer’s Academy.

“….You’re really lucky that Teach isn’t around to hear you say that,” Claude says offhandedly, Lorenz goes even redder with shame. That was an awkward conversation, Teach had approached him to discuss Lorenz’s less than welcome behavior towards the women in the Officer’s Academy. He opted to have Teach speak to Lorenz about that because, in the earlier days, Lorenz wouldn’t have listened to him. “But what exactly is she doing?”

“I’m talking to the others about female empowerment,” Edelgard explains, leaning against the doorway. She holds a book that Claude was looking for in her hands. “We were discussing universal education and its implementation.” She explains further, “Lorenz, Ferdinand, and I were discussing the benefits of meritocracy and we somehow got around over to marriage.” She steps into his office, setting the book down. “We disagreed.”

“I was merely making an argument that females were equal to men in terms of power,” Lorenz says firmly. Claude stares between them both, amused. “There are many fine examples of females in positions of leadership, like yourself or Judith or Ingrid.”

“We’re the exception, not the rule.” Edelgard answers tartly, smiling. Claude involuntarily takes a step back. He’s seen that smile before. Someone usually gets hurt when she smiles like that. “Women, particularly women with Crests, are treated like cattle in Fodlan. And if they don’t have crests, they’re treated even worse.” She sighs, taking a deep breath. “That’s the short version, do you want the long one?” She looks at them both expectantly.

“Long version, please,” Claude says hopefully. He smiles at her and she rolls her eyes at him. Far too much time with Dorothea and Hilda for her. Their sleeping together has not changed their relationship one bit.

“The life expectancy for women in Fodlan is around 35 years. For men, it’s around 50 years. The numbers vary depending on your social status- noble or peasant, merchant, soldier, etc.” Edelgard lectures, moving her hands animatedly. “However, despite the increased quality of life for noblewomen, their life expectancy goes down slightly compared to commoner women. Do you know why?” She asks them both. Claude can imagine her being very good in front of a classroom as she lectures them both.

“Even though commoner women have a poorer standard of living compared to noblewomen, noblewomen are expected to reproduce more, to have children with crests,” Edelgard says with finality. “

There are most likely other factors to it, but the major reason why noblewomen have a much shorter life span compared to noblemen is that they die from childbirth. The consistent strain of pregnancy and labor, it does something to women. It doesn’t make them weak, but speaking as someone who has given birth; it takes a lot out of a person. And to be constantly pregnant.” Edelgard sighs, “Something most likely breaks down.” Lorenz stiffens, Claude knows that Lorenz’s mother died young, but he doesn’t know from what. He knows now.

Edelgard continues, noting the tension in Lorenz’s body. “The census we ran in the Empire shows evidence showing it. Besides documenting the population size, we also requested as much family data as possible to see how family trees went beyond the noble population. The peasantry, they die young, but it’s not from childbirth, not like noblewomen. If we ran the same census in the Kingdom or the Alliance, I think we would find similar data.” 

* * *

(26th Day of Horsebow Moon, 1186)

_Dearest Grandfather,_

_I bring to you good news. As you are surely aware, the Adrestian Empire is no more. The new leaders of Fodlan are aware of Brigid’s desire for independence. As a representative of our country, I have made sure that Brigid will have a bright future for years to come. They have granted independence to our home and will ensure better ties for our country with favorable trade details. Please expect a letter from them in the next month._

_I have been well. I have reunited with my friends from the Officer’s Academy as we were apart for many years. Dorothea and I have tea several times a week and I see Bernadetta and the others around the monastery as well. I am not sure if you recall but the general who killed my father, Count Bergliez. He has a son named Caspar, and we are great friends. I hope to bring Caspar and the others to Brigid so that they can see my home. Dorothea desires to see Brigid as well. When we return, I wish to teach her the traditional song and dance from Brigid. She is quite a talented singer and dancer, so I feel that it will not be difficult to teach her._

_With all my love,_

_Petra._

Petra prefers to write long letters to her grandfather, but this will do for now. It has been far too long since she returned to Brigid, but she hopes that when she returns, Brigid will be independent. For far too long, it has served as a vassal state for either Dagda or the Empire. But now, because of Ferdinand and the others, they will be free.

“Petra?” Bernadetta’s soft voice drifts in. She’s standing in front of her table as Petra finishes up sealing her letter. Her long purple hair is tied up in a bun today, Petra can smell fried food from her. She was most likely helping in the kitchens today. “Food is ready,” she smiles softly. She missed Bernadetta and the others greatly during the five years. She did not realize it, but she was very isolated from her friends in those five years, only seeing Dorothea at the capital.

Bernadetta and the others never returned home. She wishes she followed them, but she could not risk Brigid’s safety. As friendly as Duke Gerth was, he could order the extermination of Brigid just as Dagda was destroyed. Petra wanted to lead Brigid, not have it burned.

“Thank you, Bernadetta,” Petra smiles brightly. Bernadetta has changed much over the years. Petra wishes she could have been there to watch her friend grow. “How are you doing as of late?”

“Me?” Bernadetta squeaks, looking around wildly. Perhaps her friend has not changed as much as she thought. “I’ve been good,” she stammers. “I’m glad that we’re all able to get this time together. I missed everyone.” She grins softly.

The majority of the three houses remained at the monastery. A few of them returned home for their families, but they returned quickly. Ferdinand announced to them they were looking into making Garreg Mach the new capital of Fodlan. The Empire needed to be divided up accordingly as neither the Kingdom nor the Alliance wanted to challenge each other for the future of Fodlan. Petra would not know who would win. The Kingdom had far more strength with Dimitri, but Claude could be cunning. The Empire would be unsure of whom to support.

Petra nods, understandingly. She had been apart from everyone except for Dorothea, but no one treated her any differently. They understood her difficult situation. But in time, when she ascended to the throne in Brigid, hopefully, she could show her homeland to them.

“How are you, Petra?” Bernadetta asks quickly, staring at her. Her hands are hidden behind her back.

“I am well,” Petra declares, glancing around. “I have had good news as of late. In my cards, Brigid will soon be independent.” Bernadetta stares at her, confused. Petra corrects herself, she does not use Fodlan idioms accurately enough yet. “Ferdinand and the others are going to be working with my grandfather to grant Brigid independence,” she smiles brightly. “They will send a letter to him soon.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful news, Petra!” Bernadetta cries out. “I’m so happy to hear that.” Petra flushes, her cheeks going a high pink. She has never made her desire for Brigid independence a secret. Not even from Duke Gerth, who scoffed at her. All of her friends at the Officer’s Academy took her wishes seriously. And now she was here, securing freedom for her country.

Petra nods eagerly. “In time, I hope Brigid will be an equal to Fodlan,” she announces. “That is my greatest wish.”

“To brighter futures,” Bernadetta responds. “I promise I’ll keep in touch when you leave for Brigid this time.” She smiles shyly, looking away.

Petra nods fondly. “I have been hearing that you will govern Varley county in place of your mother, is that correct?”

Bernadetta hesitates but eventually nods. “They need me there,” she says determinedly. “I will not run away, not this time.”

“I am glad for you,” Petra says sincerely. “Perhaps you can send some timber to Brigid because of our friendship.” She beams, but Bernadetta stares, confused. “It is a joke,” Petra explains, deflated. She felt that if she explained her joke to others, it was no longer funny.

“Oh!” Bernadetta squeaks, nodding furiously. “It was a good one, Petra.” She smiles awkwardly. “Maybe you could send me some rabbit in exchange,” she suggests.

Petra blinks, surprised. “Perhaps I will.” They both share a smile and they continue walking to the dining hall.

* * *

(29th Day of Horsebow Moon, 1186)

Linhardt and Professor Hanneman burst into the dining hall triumphantly. Linhardt looks like he’s going to pass out while Professor Hanneman is beaming. “We’ve done it!” He crows out loud, drawing everyone’s attention, most of all Edelgard.

She stands up, staring at them. “You’ve figured it out?” She asks breathlessly, standing up. Lysithea rises. “The Crest Removal surgery?” They walk to the side, discussing in undertones.

“Crest Removal?” Cyril echoes watching them. With Lady Rhea’s approval, he stands up to listen. He watches Lysithea carefully, they barely even notice him as they continue to discuss in an undertone. He notices that Claude’s perked up, trying to listen in.

Edelgard frowns, and the tension turns thick, like mud. “No, absolutely not.” She says to Lysithea and the others. “We need to make sure it works first.”

“It’s going to work,” Linhardt scoffs tiredly. “We did not spend months on a procedure that would fail.” Edelgard turns on him with a glare. “The data we pulled from Shambhala is good. They took detailed notes on the procedure.” Cyril saw those files. He wondered what information had been on there. Unfortunately, he could not read it.

“For a Blood Reconstruction surgery,” Edelgard points out hotly. “Not a Crest Removal. You cannot believe that the two are even remotely the same.” He’s never seen her so emotional. “Lysithea, I insist, let them test it on me first.” Her arms are crossed as she speaks with them both. They haven’t gone outside, but their conversation has turned private on the side of the dining hall.

Lysithea shakes her head. “We don’t know how much time I have left,” she protests quietly. “They said a few more years, but given my condition now… I’d rather not wait.” Cyril frowns as he listens in. What condition? Was Lysithea ill?

Edelgard frowns, touching Lysithea comfortingly on the elbow. “We need to make sure it’s safe first. You have months, not days.” she murmurs. “If something goes wrong during the surgery-”

Linhardt interjects, “It won’t.” But goes ignored.

“I have a greater chance of surviving,” Edelgard continues. “I’m a bit more sturdy than you.” She teases lightly. Lysithea cracks a small smile. She pleads, “please, Lysithea.” She smiles back at her.

Professor Hanneman watches them both. “If I could so kindly step in,” he murmurs. “Edelgard’s crests are more compatible, both being Crests of the Divine. They are both physical natured crests whereas yours Lysithea, you have a magical-natured and a physical-natured crest. He gestures towards Edelgard. “It would not be ideal, but while we are confident, the surgery will work, I think that practical work over the theoretical idea is best.”

“Exactly,” Edelgard says triumphantly. “They’ll practice on me to make sure that yours goes more smoothly.” She takes Lysithea’s hands into hers, staring into her eyes. “I know that you want them removed, but I feel it’s safer if they try the surgery on me first.” She squeezes Lysithea’s hands. “Is that alright?” She asks softly.

” Fine.” Lysithea looks away, disappointed. “If it goes well, then I’m up next, alright?” She looks at Professor Hanneman and Rhea furiously. “I need to be.” Professor Hanneman places a comforting hand on Lysithea’s shoulder.

Edelgard pulls away from Lysithea. “We’ll need an area for the surgery to take place, I’ll go coordinate with Professor Manuela to have that arranged,” she says. “Whatever you need, if it’s in my power, I’ll get it to you.”

“Well,” Linhardt muses, “We’ll need healers, in general, to make sure you stay stable. This is an incredibly invasive procedure that’s not going to be pretty.”

Edelgard tosses her hair behind with a flourish and a smile. “It’s not as if I don’t have experience with invasive procedures,” she remarks. She turns serious, “Thank you both for your work. I understand there were long hours and days for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in the middle of Dimigard Week and my brain has officially melted. I kind of forgot what happened in this chapter so re-reading it was a nice surprise. 
> 
> Go check the dimigard tag out! There's a lot of good works going on right now and they're all excellent. I hope you're enjoying the ones I've written- especially for anyone looking for some soft dimigard moments. Also spoilers because they're set in the Glass Axe universe and most of them are also after Glass Axe concludes so enjoy!
> 
> Also a group is checking interest in a dimigard romantic zine so check it out. 
> 
> Twitter link here: https://twitter.com/dimigardzine?s=09


	31. Part IV Chapter V

* * *

(1st Day of Wyvern Moon, 1186)

When asked, Professor Manuela eagerly offered her hospital wing for the surgery. It was the only place in Garreg Mach that was secure and sanitary enough to do the operation. She and Professor Hanneman had worked together, peacefully somehow, to get everything into place. Linhardt opted out because it was too much effort. 

She offered her services as well in making sure the patient was kept stable. No one had witnessed a Blood Reconstruction surgery, but they assumed it wasn’t pleasant. The number of scars that littered both Lysithea's and Edelgard’s body seemed proof enough. And the high casualty rate incurred during the procedures.

“Are you nervous?” Lysithea asks Edelgard as they share a spot of tea. Edelgard sniffed Lysithea’s sweet tooth out at the Officer’s Academy. It was the best way to lure her from her research.

Edelgard sets her cup of Bergamot tea down, contemplating. “I am, in a sense,” she murmurs. The children are running around the gardens with a stiff warning not to play near the rose bushes. “But isn’t it worth trying?”

Edelgard spent most of her time deciphering the files found at Shambhala. She and Hubert taught both Lysithea and Linhardt how to read Agarthan. Linhardt used it for their research on the Blood Reconstruction surgery, Lysithea used it to help them find more victims of TWSiTD. They had to be out there, somewhere. Surely Ordelia and the capital weren’t the only places used for their experimentation.

“I’ve had more time with my children than expected,” Edelgard muses, gently. “I don’t suppose it’s selfish for me to get more of it, right?” She runs a finger around the rim of the teacup, Lorenz loaned the set to them.

Lysithea shrugs, “I resigned myself to a young death long ago, it’s hard to have hope after so long.” Her parents always said the mysterious Imperial representatives left when it was clear that Lysithea would survive with two Crests implanted in her.

They always feared that they would return and take Lysithea for some nefarious purpose, but they never appeared again. It was her family’s physician who diagnosed her with a shortened lifespan. It was something that she carried in her heart every day.

Edelgard nods, “Death is not a stranger to you and me, it is something we expected long ago.” Lysithea watches Edelgard carefully. She was not part of the discussions that involved Claude and Dimitri before they captured Enbarr. If Edelgard had somehow survived the battle, many expected her execution. But they didn’t know Claude, and they certainly didn’t know Dimitri. If Edelgard was to die soon, it would be from her Crests but not her execution. Rhea’s testimony smoothed it out for them.

Rhea swore that Edelgard and Hubert were the only reason she survived. TWSiTD wanted her to die a slow death, but with Hubert smuggling Edelgard down to the dungeons every week, they could keep her alive. Weak, but alive.

Lysithea smooths out her hair. “If the removal goes well, I intend to live a long life.” She says darkly. Edelgard smiles, lifting her teacup to sip. She’s always resigned herself to a premature death. But now, for the first time in her life, she has hope. She’ll have more time. She isn’t sure what she’ll do with it yet.

Edelgard grins and stops. “Cyril!” She calls out, “Won’t you join us for some tea?” She asks. Lysithea turns, watching Cyril step out from the bushes. He runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it.

“Sure,” Cyril asks. He glances at Lysithea, shyly, as if looking for permission. “Is that okay? I don’t want to intrude.” Lysithea checks the time, he must be on his break. He usually comes by when he’s on break.

Edelgard shakes her head, “Not at all, we were just chatting.” She smiles brightly, “Come, sit. We’re having Bergamot today, is that alright with you?” Cyril sits down and Edelgard pours him a cup. “Do you want a pastry? The children and I made it earlier this morning so they’re fresh.” Lysithea eyes Edelgard strangely. Cyril had complained to her once about the closeness between her and the archbishop, but as far as Lysithea knew, she wasn’t aware that they were friends.

Cyril takes a Faerghus Sweet bun hesitantly, ripping it open. Edelgard smiles at them both as Lysithea awkwardly sips at her tea. Cyril hasn’t asked her about the Crest Removal surgery yet, but he was listening in. So he’s going to, eventually. Lysithea isn’t sure how to answer him.

“I think I hear my children calling me,” Edelgard stands up abruptly, finishing her tea in a hurry. “Sorry to leave you but I need to make sure no one’s missing any limbs. I’ll speak to you later, Lysithea!” She runs off, leaving them behind. She moves faster than Lysithea expected.

Their eyes meet and Lysithea’s darts away, flushing pink. She was acting so silly. She shoves a sweet bun into her mouth, chewing awkwardly. “So, how are you?”

* * *

(3rd Day of Wyvern Moon, 1186)

Leonie strums her fingers on the desk, reading the latest letter from her mother and the village. They’re wondering when she’ll come back. It’s a good question, she’s stayed far longer than she was expecting to, and eventually, she needs to go home. She still has her debt to pay off, and she’s not one to have it hanging over her shoulder.

She tells Alois this as much and he agrees with her. After all, he has Captain Jeralt’s debts from taverns all over Fodlan hanging on his back. As Captain Jeralt’s number one apprentice, she would offer to take those debts. Until Alois told her how much they were. Captain Jeralt liked to drink a lot.

But now, she has to tell all her friends. It was good to see them, but honestly, she lives in a different world than them. They have to figure out how to keep Fodlan running. She needs to put food on the table.

Claude eyes her warily. “Are you sure, Leonie? You’d be an asset to the new government.” Edelgard nods in agreement with Ferdinand and Dimitri.

“We hoped that you’d think about taking on being captain of the Knights of Seiros,” Edelgard explains coolly. “But if you want to go home, then you should do what’s best for you.”

Leonie hesitates, becoming the Captain of the Knights of Seiros would be a prestigious role. She’s always wanted to live up to Captain Jeralt. But it’s not for her, not yet. She still needs to become stronger. Maybe in ten years, she’ll be ready.

“Have you told the others?” Claude asks curiously, escorting her down the steps. She’ll stay until the end of the month when Lysithea’s surgery goes well. Edelgard has hers in a few days and they’ve been getting everything ready for it. But she’ll need her things packed and she’ll have to pack lightly, Lorenz has been giving her far too many gifts.

Leonie shakes her head, “Not yet,” she admits. She has time, though, to tell everyone. It’s been great having the time with them, but she needs to get on with her life. The war is finally over. Now she can go home.

Claude makes a noise deep in his throat. “So you haven’t told Lorenz?” He says oddly. Leonie cocks her head and looks at him strangely.

“Why would I need to tell Lorenz?” She bites back harshly. If this was a weird noble thing, Leonie would rip his head off. She’s taken far too many gifts from Lorenz, but it didn’t mean that he owned her or anything. They were gifts. She didn’t owe him anything.

Claude makes another noise, a more sympathetic one. “You should probably tell him first then,” Claude notes gently. “Just give a heads up. I’ll see you later, okay Leonie? Thanks for telling us.”

Leonie frowns. That was stranger than usual for Claude. She shakes her head. She’ll start by telling Lorenz only because they’re closest. A lot of long nights for them, sharing a bottle of whiskey. Lorenz prefers wine as usual, but Leonie’s shown him how to enjoy a spirit. Lorenz was afraid that by turning his back on his father, he’d be spitting on the Gloucester legacy. But she showed him he was going to lead his family to a brighter future.

She heads for the tea pavilion, that’s where Lorenz likes to go in the afternoons. He enjoys tea, usually with Ferdinand there.

She walks over there, spotting him with his personal tea set. She smiles, he’s very methodical. Bad at adapting to things, but in some situations, such discipline is an attribute.

“Lorenz!” Leonie calls out, sliding the chair over so she can sit. Lorenz sits up with a smile. Not that he was slouching, but now his posture is very straight.

“Leonie,” he says graciously. “I wasn’t expecting you. Unfortunately, I am having some Seiros tea and am waiting for Ferdinand to join me. Would you like a biscuit?” He offers a shortbread cookie to her. She shakes her head. She’s still not very fond of tea. She’s tolerated it for Byleth, hoping to find their weaknesses- they had none- and Lorenz since he likes tea so much.

“I’m going home,” she says bluntly. She says the statement, very much like ripping off a bandage for a wound that hasn’t fully healed. It’s going to be raw and painful. It would be nice if she could stay with everyone forever, but life doesn’t work like that. They’re all going to have been separated and maybe they’ll see each other in passing. But maybe life will be like the past five years and Leonie will never see them again.

Lorenz chokes on his tea, hacking and coughing. Leonie stares at him, surprised by his vehement reaction. Claude and the others just accepted it. But Lorenz looks like he’s dying. “What?” He hacks out tea all over his front. It’s the most undignified Leonie has ever seen him, other than when he was crouching in fear when they were searching for Flayn in the basement all those years ago.

“I’m going home,” Leonie repeats herself. “It’s been nice seeing everyone, but I need to go back to my life.” Her very solitary life working as a mercenary. It’ll be weird, not seeing everyone around, but she’s spent far too much time at Garreg Mach. She’s earned a decent salary as a general and it should help pay off her debt, but she can’t rely on her friends’ kindness forever. She needs to go home.

Lorenz gapes at her, silent for a change. Leonie eyes him strangely. She’s accepted this about him, but he’s the person who has an opinion on everything usually. He’s toned it down a lot in the past year, but he always has comments for every situation and every scenario. “But-” his eyes darted to his small bag that he carried around with him. “I wanted more time…” he mumbles to himself. Leonie watches him, he never mumbles, says it’s unbecoming of a noble.

He swallows, pulling out a small box covered in black velvet. He pried it open, dropping to one knee. “Leonie Pinelli, will you marry me?” 

* * *

(4th Day of Wyvern Moon, 1186)

“So tell me more about the Crest Removal surgery?” Sylvain asks Edelgard, two days before her own. They’re sharing some Bergamot tea because tomorrow, Edelgard won’t be allowed to have any food or drink and she wants to enjoy Bergamot tea with someone. So she chose him.

Edelgard eyes him warily before she takes a sip. She invited him, not the other way around, as it usually went when they were at the Officer’s Academy. She was never very good at taking breaks. It’s rare enough that they’re alone. Sylvain loves Dimitri, but he usually can be found lurking near Edelgard during the day. Her children are with Fleche, their governess, and are probably ripping up more of Dedue and Ashe’s poor flowers. The gardener has given up on the greenhouse with them around.

“It is what it sounds like, it removes a Crest that has been implanted via Blood Reconstruction,” Edelgard retorts, taking a bite of a sweet bun. Sylvain smiles, that’s more of the El that he knows. Sharp wit, as usual.

“Can it remove any Crest?” Sylvain asks before taking a sip of his tea. He had joked about it with Byleth, but he thought about it. How much his life would be different if he didn’t have the Crest of Gautier. He wouldn’t be expected to inherit his father’s title. He wouldn’t be wielding the Lance of Ruin. And maybe he’d have younger siblings. Maybe he’d have a brother who actually liked him. Maybe he’d have someone who liked him for him.

Edelgard narrows her eyes. “You’d have to ask Professor Hanneman or Linhardt that,” she says tartly, taking another bite of her sweet bun. “It’s not a cosmetic procedure if you’re wondering.” Her gaze softens. “From what has been explained to me, it’s not going to be a pleasant one.” She tucks her chin to her chest. She swallows, looking away. “There may be a chance that it doesn’t work.”

Sylvain blinks, surprised. “Then why are they operating on you in two days if they don’t know if it works?” His voice rises loudly. He doesn’t like the sound of that. He knows Hanneman and Linhardt are smart, like way smarter than him. But testing an invasive procedure on a live human being? It doesn’t seem like the smartest way to go.

Edelgard’s eyes dart towards him. “They’ve gone as far as they can on theory,” Edelgard responds, crossing her arms in front of her. “Now they need a test subject.” She raises her chin challengingly. She knows what she’s doing. She’s pushing him.

“And that someone has to be you?” Sylvain pushes, as far as he can tell, her children adore her. If something happens to her during the surgery, they’re going to be crushed. Alexandria can already break metal chains with her Crest of Blaiddyd. He hasn’t seen Edward use the Crest of Seiros, but it’s the quiet ones you have to worry about.

“Are you suggesting they test it on Lysithea?” Edelgard raises an eyebrow dauntingly. Sylvain can’t believe he missed that look. “That would be suicidal for Lysithea. If something goes wrong, I have a much better chance of surviving it,” she retorts, staring him down.

But what if it does? What if something goes wrong? Sylvain wants to ask. Dimitri barely survived losing her the first time, he does not think he will survive losing her again. “Like I said, does it have to be someone who had a Crest implanted? Why can’t it be someone who just has a Crest?”

Edelgard narrows both her eyes. “It’s going to be me, and that’s final,” Edelgard says sharply, taking another sip of her tea. 

* * *

(6th Day of Wyvern Moon, 1186)

Today’s the day. Edelgard’s undergoing the Crest Removal surgery and if it goes well, so will Lysithea in a few days. If it doesn’t go well, Linhardt and Hanneman will have to go back straight to the drawing board. They are treating today as if it were every day. Fleche will take the children out for a picnic in the meadows, with guards and Edelgard, who haven’t eaten anything in the past day, will prepare for the surgery.

Along with Manuela, Mercedes and Marianne will assist with the surgery to make sure Edelgard stays stable. Claude listened in on the explanation of the Crest Removal surgery and it seems complicated. The Crest of Flames was implanted into Edelgard’s body using a Blood Reconstruction surgery, and now they’ll have to flush Edelgard’s system free of the Crest of Flames. This was going to take a while.

Edelgard fidgets on the table as the others make their preparations. She didn’t ask them to, but a few of the others will wait for the surgery to be completed. Lysithea is there with Cyril as is Hubert, Ferdinand, Dorothea, Petra, Caspar, Hilda, and the Blue Lions. Even after five years of separation, their class bond still remains strong.

Claude bumps knees with her. “You okay?” He asks softly, they’ve kept their little trysts under wraps but it’s a little strange, watching Edelgard be nervous. She’s always kept her cool, but here, she’s not alright.

Her eyes dart around and she wets her lips, but she nods. “I’m fine,” she smiles briefly, their eyes meeting. “I’m just ready to get this over with.” She wrings her hands as her gaze is distracted by the large object that Hanneman and Linhardt wheel over. She stiffens when she sees the iron-wrought manacles that Manuela brings out.

“Are you ready?” Linhardt asks, bringing out a large needle. Claude’s eyes go wide at the sight of it, it’s big enough to be unpleasant. He watches Edelgard nod readily.

“Let’s do this,” Edelgard confirms. She takes off her clothes, leaving her in her smallclothes. She sticks out her thin, pale arm for the needle. Claude steps outside. It might be a long time before they see Edelgard again.

“How is she?” Lysithea asks, sitting down on the chair. She’s paler than usual, and he overheard them arguing about who would be first to undergo the procedure. Edelgard won that argument.

“She’s fine,” Claude reassures her. Edelgard was tense, but Claude was sure that Linhardt and Hanneman did the necessary legwork to make sure that this procedure was a success.

They wait in silence as the procedure begins behind the doors to Manuela’s expanded hospital wing turned surgical suite. It doesn’t even take ten minutes before the screaming starts- high, shrill, and pained. Claude watches the chair's arms underneath Dimitri’s hands splinter and break. Hubert goes pale and Ferdinand squeezes his hand comfortingly. Lysithea turns even paler as she hunches over her knees, hearing Edelgard’s high-pitched screams.

When they hear a thump behind the door, Dimitri rises and runs into the room, the door slamming behind him. 

“Cyril, get Lysithea out of here,” Claude commands, watching Lysithea grow paler and paler. Cyril takes the hint, herding Lysithea out of the room despite her weak protests. She shouldn’t be here for this. Ferdinand takes the hint as well, pulling Hubert from the room. The screaming stops and Claude goes into check.

“Dima, please no, I’ll be good, I promise.” Edelgard sobs writhing from side to side. It doesn’t even look like the procedure’s started. Mercedes and Marianne are crouched behind the large object that was wheeled in earlier. 

Linhardt looks a little harried as he holds a manacle in his hand. They must have tried to tie her down. He’s gotten smacked once or twice in the face for approaching Edelgard the wrong way in bed. She doesn’t enjoy being cornered.

Dimitri sits on the bed, Edelgard’s head in his lap. “Is there any other way?” He asks wildly; he holds Edelgard’s hands in his, watching them warily.

Linhardt sighs, but it’s Hanneman who answers. “If there’s a way you can keep her from interfering with the procedure,” he says cautiously. “It’s going to be painful for her and if she can move, it will not end well for anyone.” He watches them both, his hands held up. 

Edelgard continues to sob in the background quietly as Dimitri reviews the situation. “Don’t restrain her,” Dimitri breathes. “I can hold her down if necessary.” He brushes back a lock of loose hair from Edelgard’s face gently, his large hand cupping her face. He holds down her wrists with one hand, but she doesn’t cry out. Her head lies on her side as she stares at the wall, her eyes distant with fear. 

“Let’s do this,” Linhardt sighs, holding up a thin scalpel. Claude leaves the room to Edelgard’s pained whimpers as they begin to cut open into her body. For her sake, he hopes this works.

* * *

(6th Day of Wyvern Moon, 1186)

Marianne’s back slides against the wall, now that the procedure is finally completed. Like Linhardt promised, it was a long one, taking several hours if not more. She thinks she can see him sleeping on the floor. But they were successful. Edelgard didn’t die and her Crest of Flames has been removed. Professor Hanneman used his Crest examiner to prove it. Professor Manuela offers him a smiling fist bump and to Marianne’s surprise, he takes it.

Edelgard remains curled on the table, her head in Dimitri’s lap. The sound of her small pained whimpers still resonated with her, but she didn’t cry out, not once after Dimitri came in. He runs his hands through her hair as she stays quiet. The most damage Edelgard inflicted was in the initial panic when they tried to restrain her. They didn’t make that mistake again.

Dorothea comes running in after hearing the room has been cleared out for the most part. “Edie, are you okay?” Edelgard barely raises her head off Dimitri’s lap and smiles weakly at her.

Dimitri raises an eyebrow but says nothing, continuing to comb her hair with his fingers. “How are you feeling?” Dorothea asks, leaning on the table next to Dimitri. He stayed the entire time, just watching her go through the surgery. Because of the nature of the surgery, he’s also covered in her blood. But he didn’t say or do anything. He just stayed there.

“Can I have one of Mercie’s cookies?” Edelgard says in a small voice, curled into herself. Marianne never realized that she was so small until she saw her defenseless on the table. Dorothea smiles, tossing her hair behind her.

“Once we get you cleaned up, we can,” Dorothea whispers, squeezing Edelgard’s hand. Edelgard nods, lifting her head off Dimitri’s lap. Dimitri makes a sound of protest that goes ignored.

Wavering slightly, Edelgard looks at all of them. “Thank you, everyone, for all that you’ve done. You’ve granted me a new life.” She almost collapses back onto the table but Dimitri holds her up.

Dimitri lifts her off the table carefully, his arms tucked beneath her knees and her head cradled against his chest. They’ll need to get her to the bathhouses to clean her properly, with Professor Hanneman and Professor Manuela following them. They’re giving them instructions on how to clean her. They were able to heal most of the cuts, but it’s best not to get them wet so soon.

Marianne tiredly seeks Hilda, who’s still waiting for her. She collapses next to her, putting her head on Hilda’s lap. She doesn’t even ask for permission.

“Everything went well?” Hilda hums, brushing back Marianne’s hair from her face. Marianne nods tiredly, content in Hilda’s lap.

“Take my hair down?” Marianne asks quietly, her hair has been tightly braided for the day and she wants it down now. Like Linhardt, she’s ready to go to bed. She doesn’t even know what time it is, but it’s time to sleep for her. Hilda nods and unpins her braids. Marianne closes her eyes and drifts asleep as she feels Hilda’s fingers scrape against her head.

* * *

(7th Day of Wyvern Moon, 1186)

Edelgard is resting while Petra reads her tales from Brigid. Edelgard asked so she could learn more about her homeland. She asked her grandfather to send her old stories of Brigid’s past and its founders. These are the first letters that she has sent to him without fear of them being read before they reach him. 

Edelgard has promised already that the orders have been given to the troops stationed at Brigid to return to Fodlan. Those who have lives established in Brigid are allowed to stay with her grandfather’s permission, but they will not be as soldiers of the Adrestian Empire. 

Dorothea is in the same room, listening to her read out loud. She’s been writing on some parchment furiously, humming to herself quietly. Petra believes that Dorothea is writing her own opera. She has been wanting to for a while.

Edelgard has been drifting on and off to sleep as the procedure took its toll on her. She tries mightily to stay awake to listen, but often the need for sleep defeats her. Her children visited earlier this morning, and she was barely awake for their visit. 

A small knock on the door interrupts her reading, and the door opens slightly, revealing Lady Rhea with a smile. Over the months, Lady Rhea has recovered fully from her captivity under the palace’s dungeons. Petra had seen the dungeons; she had never imagined an area so vast underneath the palace, which was already intimidatingly large. “Is she sleeping?” Lady Rhea asks quietly as she steps into the room.

Petra nods quickly, watching her. She does not believe in the Church of Seiros, but Lady Rhea made accommodations for her at the Officer’s Academy. For instance, she was allowed to leave monastery grounds for communing with Mother Earth and hunting without supervision from the Knights of Seiros. Petra appreciated it then, and she appreciates it now.

“She would be upset with me right now if she knew what I was doing,” Lady Rhea confides, sitting down in a chair next to Edelgard’s bed. “But she used to do this for me every week when I was in that awful place. It’s the least I could do for her.” She grabs Edelgard’s hand, intertwining her fingers with Edelgard’s.

_ In time’s flow, see the glow of flames ever burning bright. On the swift river’s drift, broken memories alight.  _

Lady Rhea’s hair begins to glow, and it’s as if nighttime sets in the room. Every time Petra sees it, she’s always surprised, as if it were the first time. “You aren’t supposed to be doing this,” Edelgard breathes, her light purple eyes barely open. “You’re supposed to be preparing for your retirement.” 

At the end of Red Wolf Moon, they announced Lady Rhea would step down from her position as Archbishop of the Church of Seiros. While she had recovered from her captivity, she longed for a life of peace and retirement. Something that everyone agreed was well-earned. 

The search for her successor was on, as Seteth would bridge the gap between the two. However, Lady Rhea needed to prepare for her departure. Flayn would accompany her wherever she went, as would some guards from the Knights of Seiros. She could choose her retirement spot as she left the public eye permanently. 

“I am still the Archbishop,” Lady Rhea answers smoothly. “And I can still choose what I want to do.” She smiles, cupping Edelgard’s face softly. “Now, how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Edelgard responds tiredly. “I’m feeling better and better every day so you don’t need to do this again,” she retorts. Lady Rhea squeezes her hand.

“And if I want to keep doing this?” Lady Rhea challenges. “Will you be able to stop me?” 

* * *

(10th Day of Wyvern Moon, 1186)

It takes Edelgard a few days to recover the Crest Removal surgery. It takes everyone a couple of days to recover. It wasn’t clear to Dimitri, but according to Mercedes, Professor Hanneman and Linhardt ran into some complications when the surgery was ongoing and they needed to re-address the procedure. That means it will be another week or so before Lysithea has her surgery.

It meant bed rest for Edelgard as she recovers, sleeping in her room. Alexandria and Edward take no heed to it, only coming in every day quietly to say hello to their mother. It stings him they still don’t know that he is their father, but Edelgard didn’t want them to know, not yet. And he wants to respect Edelgard’s wishes, so he stays quiet.

He watches Edelgard in the courtyard, practicing a Silence spell. Because Professor Manuela will be needed to help restrain Lysithea’s magical talents, she will assist with Lysithea’s Crest Removal surgery.

Professor Manuela’s tutoring her right now because, with Lysithea, her surgery will take even longer than her crests aren’t compatible like Edelgard’s and have been with her longer. Professor Hanneman and Linhardt will need to examine her to make sure her crests are not intertwined.

Alexandria and Edward are running around in the gardens when Edelgard sits down with a hmph frustrated. Professor Manuela watches her sympathetically, “Things usually come easy to you, don’t they?” She notes quickly, sitting down next to her.

Edelgard frowns, “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” she makes a small noise. “I have the correct runes and I’m keeping a tight control over my magic. It should work.” As it was explained to them, the Silence spell was a spell used to take away someone’s magic. They hadn’t expected Edelgard’s reaction to the procedure to be so subdued, but with Lysithea and her power, it was best to be prepared on all levels.

Edelgard takes one of her twin plaits out, running her hand through her hair in frustration. Alexandria stops in her tracks and poor Edward, who was chasing after her, collides with her. Dimitri stands up to help them both off the ground immediately. He brushes the dirt off Edward, who still, after all this time, observes him.

Edelgard takes out the other plait, untangling the braid, and ties her hair up in a high ponytail, exposing her slim neck. Dimitri’s heart jumps as he watches her. Alexandria tries to do the same when Edelgard notices. “Alexandria, what are you doing?” She asks, standing up. “Fleche did your hair so nicely, it’d be a shame to ruin it.” She cocks her head questioningly.

Alexandria freezes, and Dimitri notices tears collecting at her eyes. She runs off, leaving Edward and Dimitri in the dirt. “What- Alexandria!” Edelgard raises her skirts and chases after her, with Edward and Dimitri quick to follow.

He finds Edelgard at the stairs, looking around wildly for their daughter. “I- I don’t know where she is,” Edelgard says, confused. “She was here and then she disappeared.” Dimitri puts a hand on her shoulder. Ever since they spoke about his engagement ending with Mercedes’s, she’s allowed basic physical contact with him.

“We’ll find her,” he murmurs. Edward nods in agreement, looking around for his sister.

“Hey!” Claude says in a whispered shout at the bottom of the stairs. “Looking for a lost child?” He smirks. Edelgard frowns, following him down the stairs with both Edward and Dimitri following.

He points towards a tree, and Dimitri sees a flash of red that quickly disappears. Edelgard makes a confused noise. “They aren’t allowed to climb trees?” They all look at Edward, who sheepishly digs a toe into the dirt.

“We do it when Miss Fleche isn’t looking,” he admits quietly, looking at the ground. He avoids her gaze.

Edelgard sighs, kneeling. He looks her in the eyes timidly. “We’re going to talk about that later, okay?” She presses a kiss to his cheek before standing up.

The tree is not very tall. But neither Edelgard nor Dimitri are very good at climbing trees. Edelgard’s recovered some, but she’s in no shape to climb a tree and in Faerghus, they didn’t have many trees good for climbing. 

“I got it,” Claude waves them off, scaling the trunk with ease. They both glance at each other. Even after knowing Claude for five years, the Alliance leader could still surprise him.

They hear inaudible murmurs as they wait for Claude to come back down with their daughter. Claude eventually comes into view near the prime point of the trunk with Alexandria clinging to his back. He drops to the ground with a thump and Edelgard rushes over, lifting Alexandria off his back into her lap. Edward clutches Edelgard’s sleeve, watching his sister worriedly.

Alexandria hides her head in Edelgard’s shoulder. “Alexandria, what’s wrong?” Edelgard soothes her daughter, brushing her hair behind her ear. She removes a stray twig from her hair. “What’s wrong, sweetling?”

Alexandria mumbles something into her shoulder and Dimitri cocks his head. He didn’t quite hear what she said. “What was that?” Edelgard questions, holding her daughter close. Edward comes in to hug his sister, sitting on Edelgard’s knee.

“I-I don’t look like you,” Alexandria sobs loudly, tears running down her face. “And I wanna look like you.” Edelgard stiffens, her hands still running through Alexandria’s hair. “I really wanna look like you.” Her stuffed nose turns her voice thick but it’s clear what she’s saying.

Edelgard sighs, pressing a kiss to Alexandria’s forehead before squeezing her tightly. “You do look like me, though,” Edelgard reassures her quietly. “You do, sweetling.”

Alexandria shakes her head wildly. “No, I don’t!” She sobs. “Ed has your eyes and your Crest. I don’t look anything like you!” She shrieks, her words piercing Dimitri’s ears.

“Oh, sweetling.” Edelgard murmurs into their daughter’s ear. She hugs her, rubbing her back comfortingly as she rocks her in her arms. Dimitri freezes, watching them closely. They don’t know what happened to her. But when he first saw Alexandria, he thought she was an Edelgard miniature except for the eyes. She has his eyes. But their very demeanor was the same.

Edward stands up as Edelgard carries Alexandria in her arms, pressing a kiss into her hair. “I have something to show you both,” Edelgard murmurs. “Lady Rhea had it delivered for me a few weeks ago and…it’s very important to me.” She guides them to a hallway, still holding Alexandria and Edward clinging to her skirts. Claude and Dimitri glance at each other silently before following.

They stop in front of a large portrait of 11 people. Dimitri stiffens when he realizes who they are. This was her family. These were her siblings. He spots Edelgard in the very center, sitting in someone’s lap with a bright smile. She looks so young, so happy.

“Who are these people?” Edward asks, staring at the large portrait, it’s lifesize and painted in immaculate detail. It’s ornate and well-cared for. Dimitri has to guess that Edelgard was older than the twins but younger than when he first met her in this painting.

“This was my family,” Edelgard murmurs as Alexandria turns to look at the painting. “These are my siblings.” She points to the center of the portrait. “And that is me.” Alexandria’s eyes darted from the painting to her mother.

“Your hair is a different color,” Alexandria exclaims through a stuffy nose, comparing her light brown hair to the portrait. “Why is that, mama?” Edward clings to Edelgard, looking over the 11 faces. “Where is your family now?”

“They’re gone,” Edelgard admits gently, setting Alexandria down, looking at the painting resigned. “That’s Hector, my oldest brother,” she points to the man holding her. “He taught me how to fight. He gave me my first battle axe.” He had light brown hair like Edelgard, but with brown eyes.

She points to the elegant-looking girl in the corner with blonde hair and brown eyes as well. “There’s Astrid, she was talented in horseback riding. She loved her horses.” Edelgard notes sadly.

She continues, “Isadora was my second oldest sister, she loved to read. She’s the one who taught me how to read.” Isadora stands next to Hector and Edelgard with a shy smile.

“Kieran was born a little after her,” she notes fondly of the boy with the fiery red hair not unlike Sylvain’s. “He was loud but friendly. He liked his flowers, he created a magical repellant that killed bugs but didn’t harm the flowers or humans.”

“Deirdre and Finn were twins,” she gestures to a boy and girl standing next to each other. “Like you,” she squeezes Alexandria’s and Edward’s shoulders. “Finn used to tell me stories about the constellations and the stars by drawing me pictures. Deirdre loved to sing and dance. She wanted to join the Mittlefrank Opera.”

“Roderick wanted to be a mercenary,” she points out a boy with dark brown hair and blue eyes. “He loved hearing about tales of Jeralt, the BladeBreaker,” she says sadly.

“Castor used to bring me flowers and gifts,” Edelgard notes softly, looking at the boy with black hair and blue eyes. “He always wanted to travel Fodlan.”

“Frederick and Katarina were my youngest siblings. I taught Katarina how to walk and Frederick how to dance,” Edelgard kneels, looking at the painting with pained eyes. “This was my family and now they’re gone.” 

She looks at Alexandria. “So you see? You look like me. You have your father’s eyes and his Crest.” Her eyes dart up quickly to Dimitri’s before resting on Alexandria’s and Edward’s crying faces. She ruffles Edward’s hair, “And you look a lot like your father too, but you have my eyes instead.”

“But what happened?” Alexandria’s voice is quiet but clear even through the tears. “Why are they gone and what happened to your hair?”

Edelgard sighs, resting on her legs. “Someone hurt them,” she whispers. “Someone hurt all of them and then they hurt me too.” She explains gently. “I won’t let them hurt you, but when they hurt me, my hair color changed. That’s why it’s not brown anymore.” She cups both of their faces with a sad smile.

“So who is our father?” Edward asks, looking at her. “Why didn’t he protect you?” Claude winces, looking at Dimitri, who swallows. He should have been there for her. He didn’t know any of this about her family.

“Your father didn’t know about me or you,” she says sadly, but her eyes don’t look at Dimitri before she continues. “He knows about you now. He’s actually in this room, right now.” Dimitri takes a step back before Alexandria and Edward’s heads pivot towards him and Claude.

“Oh,” Edward murmurs. “So it is you.”

* * *

(13th Day of Wyvern Moon, 1186)

Ingrid watches Dimitri carefully interact with Alexandria and Edward, well mostly Alexandria. Edward stands off to the side as he watches his father play with his twin sister. Edelgard finally told them the truth about their father. She’s glad for Dimitri, he’s endured so much these past five years, he deserves some happiness.

Glenn squeezes her, kissing her on the forehead. He’s introduced himself to the children, not after staring for a good five minutes in silence when he first saw them. Ingrid warned him once he arrived at the monastery, but even he was shocked by their appearance. They resemble their parents so much, it’s shocking. He laced his hand with hers and smiled softly.

“How do you feel about children?” Ingrid asks him quietly, watching the twins run around. Ingrid has always wanted to be a knight. Even when engaged and now married, she’s never thought about children very much. But with Glenn….she wants them eventually.

“Well,” Glenn muses, pressing his shoulder next to hers. “I’ve always liked the thought of children. I was 5 when Felix was born and despite what he might have told you, I’ve always been the perfect older brother.” He grins and Ingrid elbows him with a laugh. He says more somberly. “We promised that we would consider having children when the war was over. If you want to revisit that discussion, I’m perfectly fine with that.”

Ingrid ponders that statement. Whether Felix will marry someone will always be up in the air. She’s seen him hanging around Annette a lot when he isn’t training or with Sylvain. But could there be something there enough to equate to love and marriage? She can’t imagine him ever having a child out of wedlock. She has brothers to carry on the Galatean name. They could just not have children.

When Alexandria falls over, Edward rushes to help her up. Children….if she has a child, she will have to give up being a knight.

Glenn kisses her shoulder, “Of course, if we do have children, I’ll raise them. You don’t have to give up your knighthood. Remember, handsome trophy husband of the legendary Knight of Galatea.” He reminds her softly. Ingrid stills under his touch. He had said that after a round of lovemaking. She didn’t take him seriously. Most women in Faerghus often retired from their careers after falling pregnant. Glenn would buck societal traditions if he was the one to raise their future children.

“You mean that?” Ingrid asks him shakily. He nods, watching Alexandria and Edward play. “You’d really do that?”

He squeezes her hand. “I like children. I’m still trying to convince Edelgard that Alexandria and Edward should call me uncle, but if you don’t want children, I’d rather you be happy instead.”

Ingrid raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t actually try to convince Edelgard, did you?” She just told the children about Dimitri, they’ve grown up together but she doesn’t believe that warrants the title of family.

“No,” Glenn admits reluctantly. “But the thought is nice.”

* * *

(16th Day of Wyvern Moon, 1186)

Hilda frowns, sucking on the edge of the quill. Claude’s a little preoccupied with the revelation that Dimitri’s the father of Alexandria and Edward- not that was a surprise, but the kids are taking a little time to absorb that fact and that Lorenz has proposed to Leonie. 

Which Hilda saw coming from a mile away, but the Alliance did not. So he has to reckon with the nobles’ processing Lorenz’s “hasty and immature” proposal. She’s not telling Leonie what they wrote, but she has half a mind to stick a boot up their annoying butts.

But troubling news has come in from near Goneril territory, and Shamir has confirmed it when she isn’t off “flirting” with Catherine. That’s a subjective description, but Hilda knows flirting when she sees it. She’s feeling a little romantic, Marianne put her head in her lap without asking and she’s been having tea with her every day. She’s in a good mood.

She has to write to Holst, asking him to investigate the issue, otherwise it’s going to be Count Gloucester who isn’t in a good mood once he gets wind of Lorenz’s proposal. It’s not like he can do anything about it. He’s not under house arrest but Claude’s clarified that once things are back to normal, he’s losing his title and Lorenz is taking it.

But there’s news of a dead man walking the earth. Which if Hilda didn’t know what she knew a year ago, she’d call bullshit. But knowing that TWSiTD is still roaming around even with their major base, Shambhala destroyed, it makes her leery of any strange news.

Other good news is that the Almyrans haven’t attacked in over a year. She’s avoided telling Holst her plans because she wants to do it in person, but she’s going to write a letter to the Almyran king. But first, she needs to learn Almyran. She’d ask Cyril, but she doesn’t want to be presumptuous. 

Lysithea told her that Cyril couldn’t read, but that was in Fodlanese. There may have been a chance that he wasn’t taught to read Almyran either. So she’ll have to crack open a book and start researching. Ugh, she hates researching. But she has a goal, and she’s going to see it fulfilled in any way possible. 

* * *

(19th Day of Wyvern Moon, 1186)

Annette wakes up from the bed she shares with Mercedes. Ever since Mercedes broke her engagement with Dimitri last month, they’ve been sharing the same bed. It’s comforting. Ever since Mercedes realized that it was Emile, her brother, that was Death Knight, she’s been sadder and Annette wishes she could help her more.

Ever since her uncle was placed on house arrest and Lady Rhea has been found, she’s been trying to convince her father to come home. He won’t be coming back as Baron Dominic, but Annette’s trying to do it for her mom. She’ll be the next Baroness Dominic, but she’s also trying to make her mom happy.

She thinks she almost has him cracked. She’s hoping a convincing word from Lady Rhea will seal the deal, and Edelgard’s already promised to talk to Lady Rhea about it. Lady Rhea will retire as Archbishop soon, exhausted by the trials she experienced under the Empire. It will be a new age for the Church of Seiros.

“Are you alright?” Mercedes asks quietly as Annette journals. She’s picked it up from Bernadetta who says it helps organize her thoughts and given how disorganized her own thoughts are at times, she thought it was a good habit to pick up.

“I’m fine,” Annette chirps, storing the quill and journal underneath her bed. She snuggles closer to Mercedes for warmth. It’s only the Wyvern Moon, but it’s beginning to get chilly in Garreg Mach, especially since it’s in the mountains. “How are you?” She replies with a smile.

“I’m doing well,” Mercedes whispers. “Earlier today, Edelgard informed me of her plans for the palace of Enbarr. She’s planning on turning it into an orphanage, and she’s wondering if I’ll help with running it. Dorothea will be there too, but we’ll see for how long.” Annette gasps, looking at Mercedes. Despite her reclaimed title as the baroness of Martritz, she intends to disown the title and live as a commoner. She hopes to run an orphanage in Faerghus. It might not be Faerghus, but if it’s state run, that means more funding to help people with.

“That’s good news, isn’t it?” Annette asks excitedly. “Think of the people you’ll be able to help!” She rests her head on Mercedes’s chest. Dorothea’s already told her over tea, but unfortunately, Enbarr has a lot of orphans. So does Fhirdiad now that she thinks about it. She hasn’t been to Deirdriu, but she’s willing to bet the same thing. Instead of a small orphanage, that means Mercedes can help run a big one.

“But it’s in Enbarr,” Mercedes murmurs quietly. “You’ll be in Dominic. Everyone will be in Faerghus,” she squeezes Annette’s hand tightly. “I’m going to miss everyone,” she says sadly.

Annette blinks, she hadn’t considered that at all. But Enbarr was on the other side of Fodlan, and everyone would eventually have to go back to their homes and inherit their titles. She hadn’t talked to Dedue or Ashe about their plans, but she has to imagine that Dedue will remain by Dimitri’s side. Ashe has his family to think about and they’re in Fhirdiad. “Um, well-” Annette stammers. “Is Enbarr going to be the only major orphanage?” She asks quickly. “Maybe you could look into setting up sister orphanages everywhere?”

Mercedes considers that slowly. “Perhaps,” she breathes. “The others are still trying to figure out Fodlan, and Edelgard said I could think about it. But perhaps we could open an orphanage in Fhirdiad.”

* * *

(25th Day of Wyvern Moon, 1186)

While Lysithea sits on the table, she waits for preparations to be finished. Cyril is waiting there with her and Edelgard approaches her with a soft smile. “How are you feeling?” He’s been there for a conversation or two where Lysithea asks Edelgard about the recovery process of the Crest Removal procedure. Edelgard recovered well, she’s able to walk around and has started to train again. She won’t say for what, but it must be with the small TWSiTD bases that are scattered across Fodlan.

Lysithea looks down, kicking out her legs. “Nervous,” she admits. “But yours went smoothly, right?” Cyril escorted Lysithea out when they heard Edelgard screaming. Lysithea turned pale as a sheet, and with Claude’s order, he brought her to the library where they waited. Eventually, after several hours, they heard the procedure was a success, and that Edelgard was awake.

“It did,” Edelgard confirms softly. “Thankfully, because of the anesthesia, I hardly remember any of it.” She says with a laugh. Her eyes are soft as she examines Edelgard. She’ll be assisting with the surgery today herself.

Linhardt snorts as he passes by. “Given how much anesthesia we had to put into you, I’d hope so.” He continues to set up his preparations. Both he and Professor Hanneman will work on the Crest Removal. Most of it went above Cyril’s head but they said that it would be longer and more difficult for Lysithea because of her crests, that they were of a different nature than each other, and the fact that there were two of them that needed to be removed.

“Did it hurt?” Lysithea asks Edelgard quietly, her legs stilling. “I’m used to pain, but how much did it hurt?”

Edelgard hesitates, she wets her lips. “It hurts. I won’t sugarcoat it for you, Lysithea, but it hurts more than the Blood Reconstruction. However, the way you feel afterward is freeing. Like an invisible weight has been lifted that you never realized was there.” Her eyes dart up to Lysithea’s worried pink ones and she squeezes her hands. “If you don’t want to go through with it, we can find other ways to manage them.”

Lysithea shakes her head wildly. “No,” she says fiercely. “I’m having them removed. I’m not waiting any longer for this moment.”

Edelgard nods slowly. “Okay, then.” She smiles softly, reaching for the large needle. They both pale at the sight of it. “This will be the anesthesia. It won’t knock you out completely, but it should help dull the pain a little. Unfortunately, if we tried to increase the amount, there’s a chance that you wouldn’t wake up.” She squeezes Lysithea’s hand comfortingly. “Let’s have you lie down and then we’ll begin the surgery.” She glances at Cyril expectantly. “Would you rather wait outside or be here with Lysithea?”

“Is it alright if I stay?” He looks to Lysithea for permission; Cyril’s handled blood before. He’s used to it and he’d rather be here for Lysithea than wait outside.

Lysithea nods and lies down, Edelgard latches the manacles around her hands and legs with an apologetic look. Cyril squeezes her hand and watches the needle go in. Her eyes close as she drifts away slowly.

* * *

(31st Day of Wyvern Moon, 1186)

They’re all eating dinner a few days after a successful Crest Removal surgery for Lysithea and her two Crests. She opted to have both Crests removed as they weren’t natural. Raphael’s glad for her, she never seemed thrilled and now he hopes that she’ll be happier and less stressed. 

She reminds him far too much of Maya, who’s letters to Ignatz come every week. He thinks they’re sharing sketches and drawing tips. Maya likes to draw too when she isn’t running the inn.

Bernadetta said yes, so he’s not returning to the inn. He’s going to Varley, and he’s a little nervous. Probably not as nervous as Bernadetta, who feels guilty about never coming back to her family home. But as he’s reminded her, it was for her good. She’s a lot happier since she never went back, and she shouldn’t regret it.

They sit together, holding hands, and eating food with Hilda comes in with a flurry, and a letter opened in her hand. “Claude!” She shouts, tears running down her face. “We’ve got a problem!” Her voice cracks and everyone turns to watch her, Hilda’s dramatic, but she’s not the shouting kind of dramatic. She shakes as she hands over the crumpled letter to Claude and Edelgard reads over his shoulder. Edelgard gasps, holding a hand to her mouth as she looks at Lorenz.

“Oh shit,” Claude breaths as he finishes the letter. “When did this come in?” He looks at Hilda wildly. There’s something in his eyes, Raphael realizes. It’s fear in Claude’s eyes. Claude doesn’t show fear even in the toughest of situations

“What’s wrong?” Lorenz says loudly from his spot with Leonie. It wasn’t that much of a surprise to hear that Lorenz had proposed to Leonie. Nor was it much of a surprise that Leonie refused to let him pay off her debts, which sounded like Leonie.

“It came in today. It’s….a letter from my brother.” Hilda mumbles, taking the letter back. She looks at Lorenz sadly. She crumples the letter in her fist behind her.

Lorenz blinks, “What is the matter? I thought General Holst and my father were investigating a small bandit issue? Is it about Fodlan’s Locket?” He stands up expectantly, his head tilted curiously.

Hilda swallows and looks back at Claude who stands up. “Lorenz, I-”

“May I?” Edelgard asks quietly, taking the letter from Hilda’s fist. Hilda nods and Edelgard unfurls the letter, looking sorrowful, and reads. “My dearest sister….I bring to you sad tidings. The bandit issue mentioned earlier this month has turned into a larger issue than we ever thought possible. I am sad to announce that in the heat of battle, Count Gloucester lost his life.” Lorenz’s knees buckle and Leonie catches him before he collapses. His arm is around her shoulder and his knees brush the floor. El watches him before she continues. 

“I wish I could say I was able to avenge the count, however, his opponent proved to be far too much of a match even for me. I cannot confirm it. But I believe the man leading this force is…. the King of Liberation, Nemesis. I am sorry, Hilda, but I could not defeat him. As it stands, my men and I barely escaped with our lives. He is coming for Garreg Mach Monastery.”


	32. Part IV Chapter VI

* * *

(2nd Day of Red Wolf Moon, 1186)

“Rhea, let us come with you.” Edelgard insists, following Lady Rhea as she pulls on her armor. She’s preparing for battle. Despite having just recovered from her captivity, Lady Rhea is only taking with her the Knights of Seiros to battle with Nemesis, the King of Liberation. Cyril hasn’t met Holst, but Claude and the others seem to think highly of him. He must think it is Nemesis.

Rhea shakes her head as she pulls her on her battle crown, matched with twin wings on the side. “I have defeated him once, I can do it again.” She answers, securing her Shield of Seiros. She nods to Seteth grimly. Holst’s letter did not say where they fought Nemesis, but it must be somewhere in the Alliance. Cyril isn’t allowed to come, but Shamir and the others will go with her.

“We don’t know their numbers,” Edelgard protests loudly. “Who knows what else the Agarthans have up their sleeves?” Cyril watches them both nervously. Lady Rhea already disappeared once. He doesn’t want to think about losing her again. Edelgard has started to train again, but she’s not at her peak, which is why Lady Rhea won’t allow her to come. But she doesn’t explain why she won’t let the other generals come either. 

Ever since they captured Shambhala, the generals of the coalition have been going on missions, seeking other smaller bases of TWSiTD. They’ve been successful mostly, most of the time their intel is good and the forces stationed at those bases don’t stand a chance against them.

Lady Rhea narrows her eyes. “I’ve defeated Nemesis with the Ten Elites by his side once, I can do it again.” Seteth prepares his mount and the Spear of Assal. Cyril has a pit in his stomach as the Knights of Seiros prepare to leave Garreg Mach Monastery. He wishes he was going with them, but Lady Rhea said he wasn’t allowed to go. She presses a kiss to Edelgard’s forehead. “Take care of Alexandria and Edward, we will return in victory.”

Edelgard’s hands clench by her side as the Knights of Seiros leave for the Alliance.

In the two days since Holst’s letter arrived from the Alliance, it’s been chaos for Garreg Mach. News of the King of Liberation rising spread like wildfire across Fodlan, and letters are flowing by the day for confirmation. Hilda has already written a letter back to Holst, sent by the fastest owl they have, but Lady Rhea insisted on quick action. All the Knights of Seiros were gathered at the monastery, and they left with Lady Rhea. They refused any additions of the generals of the coalition. Under Lady Rhea’s orders, the Church of Seiros will handle it independently.

“They’re going to be alright, right?” Cyril asks Edelgard, who watched them disappear into the mountains.

“I don’t know,” Edelgard admits, leaning against the wall. She fought with Lady Rhea for a day about going with her. It’s the first time he’s ever seen her raise her voice like that. “If it really is Nemesis, and he’s been revived by the Agarthans, who knows what kind of threat he’ll be? She has Seteth and the others with her, but he’s a formidable foe. The War of Heroes raged on for decades. It’s hard to imagine it ending in one decisive battle.”

She shakes her head determinedly, chewing on her lip. “I need to speak to Claude and the others. If things go wrong, we need to be prepared with an army.” At Cyril’s panicked look, she reassures him. “I believe that she will succeed, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful.” She runs a hand through her hair. “But where to get the men…” she mutters, walking off.

Cyril watches her leave, he can see why Claude and Lysithea both like her. Claude likes contingency plans on top of contingency plans, and Lysithea likes someone who doesn’t treat her like a child. Edelgard seems to manage that just fine. 

* * *

(5th Day of Red Wolf Moon, 1186)

Ashe kneads the dough, feeling his hands push against it. It’s something that Mercedes and Annette taught him when he was worried about his siblings near Arianrhod. It was unlikely, but he was so afraid that Cornelia would use them against him and he would have to betray Dedue and the others. Thankfully, it didn’t, most likely because Cornelia didn’t care about a minor general in the coalition.

Because the blockade ended and they have access to the Empire’s crops, the quality of food and ingredients have gone up. When he was cooking dinner with Bernadetta, Raphael was there to help taste test and he noticed the quality of ingredients immediately. So this sourdough bread he has been developing should taste delicious.

They haven’t heard from the Alliance about Lady Rhea or Nemesis yet. They couldn't believe that the actual King of Liberation now walked Fodlan. It was terrifying to think about. He had heard stories about Holst as a general, but to think Nemesis could defeat him? Terrifying. Lady Rhea left with the Knights of Seiros a few days ago and they have to receive any word, good or bad. But they are waiting. They’ve rotated someone at the owl’s post for any letters. Not even Hilda has heard from her brother after she returned his letter.

“Are you alright?” Annette asks quickly, interrupting his thoughts. “I think the dough has been kneaded enough, Ashe.” She smiles weakly, another serving of dough being worked underneath her fingers. Gilbert, her father, was among the men who set off with Lady Rhea. It was going to be his last service as a Knight of Seiros before he would return to Dominic with Annette. He promised her. She was the one who offered to bake bread with him in the kitchens. They’re doing multiple doughs because their friends have immense appetites. Raphael can polish off a whole loaf of bread by himself.

“I’m fine,” Ashe responds, tossing the kneaded bread into a bread basket and covering it with a cloth. “There’s just a lot going on, you know?” He grabs another serving of bread from underneath the main cloth where seven more are waiting for them. As he said, their friends can eat a lot. He begins to knead again. “I thought everything was over, but then another crisis appeared.” He planned to leave once Edelgard and Lysithea recovered from their crest removal surgeries.

Dimitri wrote to his father, and a position in the Royal Guard was offered to Ashe. It was an immense honor, considering that the Royal Guard was the elite in the Kingdom. Most of them were men from noble families- commoners could rise to their ranks, but rarely did so.

His siblings had an interest in something they heard from the east- it was called a printing press. They had inherited Ashe’s love of books and cooking.

Annette nods and frowns. “To think that the King of Liberation is alive,” she murmurs, still working against the firm dough. “It’s like one of those stories,” she muses.

Ashe nods, he’s read many books that tell the tale of the War of Heroes. Nemesis was always viewed as a powerful figure, once a hero of the people turned villain corrupted by too much power. He cuts a legendary figure in Fodlan’s past. To think Lady Rhea will battle him in the Alliance and they won’t be there to support her.

But the Knights of Seiros are there- Catherine, Shamir, Alois, and many others followed their archbishop’s path to battle. They’ll be able to support Lady Rhea in battle. “I wonder how everyone will see this,” he muses. “How will we go down in history?”

Annette blinks, finishing kneading her serving of dough. She tosses it into a bread bowl and covers it with a cloth. “You think we’ll be in the history books?” She asks curiously.

Ashe nods, “Any time there is a major battle in history, stories are written,” he says excitedly. “And well- there wasn’t very much fighting to happen in this war until the last year, but Fodlan has been changed. The Empire has fallen even though it has stood for millennia.”

Annette tilts her head, pondering his question. “Well, I wonder what stories will be told about us,” Annette says teasingly. “Will they describe the handsome archer of the Blue Lions?” Ashe’s cheeks turn pink as he looks down at his misshapen dough.

“What about the sweet Baroness Dominic?” Ashe responds lightly. “The one who braved the Faerghus winters to reunite with her friends.” Annette’s cheeks turn a rosy red as she blushes. Annette ducks her head and when she looks up to meet Ashe’s eyes, they both turn their heads, too flustered to continue talking.

* * *

(10th Day of Red Wolf Moon, 1186)

Ten days since Lady Rhea departed with the Knights of Seiros to the Alliance, and yet they have heard no word. Holst has responded to Hilda’s letter, but he has not heard any reports of Lady Rhea and the Knights of Seiros. He has only heard that Nemesis continues his march to Garreg Mach. Dimitri has to wonder why he is headed for Garreg Mach. Why is he not focusing on the rest of the Alliance? What is Nemesis’s goal?

“Dimitri!” Cyril’s loud voice rings out as he bangs on the door. “Seteth is back!” In a flash, Dimitri leaps out of bed, pulling his coat over his shoulders. He slips on his boots as Cyril guides him to an empty courtyard. It’s night and cold out as Dimitri follows Cyril. Winter is beginning to settle in the monastery. 

Flayn dismounts first and helps Seteth down. He holds Lady Rhea in his arms… and she doesn’t look well. A large slash is across her chest as Flayn attempts to heal her, to no avail. The crown she was wearing is bent and brown, and her armor looks as if it has been ripped apart. Blood stained her clothing.

He hears the pattering of footsteps- it’s Edelgard and Claude rushing towards them. She’s wearing a white nightgown, her hair unbound, and it seems that Claude likes to sleep shirtless. “What happened?” Dimitri asks Seteth as Edelgard pulls Lady Rhea into her arms. She sings.

_ In time’s flow, see the glow of flames ever burning bright. On the swift river’s drift, broken memories alight. _

Seteth watches them both as her hair glows. “It’s true. It’s him,” Seteth gasps out, his knees buckling underneath him. “It’s Nemesis. He’s alive. The rest of the Knights of Seiros are on their way back, but Rhea… she needs help. None of Flayn’s healing was helping her.” Dimitri swallows, watching Edelgard hold Lady Rhea. She brushes a lock of hair back, Lady Rhea’s blood staining her nightgown. Seteth continues, his gaze never leaving Lady Rhea’s face. 

“She injured him grievously, but he will take the wound as long as he could defeat her.” He shakes his head. “He’s still alive, just injured. He had to retreat. He has the 10 Elites by his side.” Flayn supports him, healing a gash on his arm. It seems that Seteth sustained his fair share of wounds on the battlefield.

Edelgard looks up with a gasp. She meets both their eyes and slowly shakes her head with tears welling up in the corner of her eyes. She tries again.

**_I_ ** _ n time’s flow, see the glow of flames ever burning bright. On the swift river’s drift, broken memories alight. _

She tries again, and Lady Rhea’s hair glows again in the night. Lady Rhea chokes and gasps, her hair reaching to cup Edelgard’s cheek with a soft smile. “It’s alright, it’s okay.” She breathes, her finger brushing away a wet tear.

Edelgard shakes her head and opens her mouth to sing again. She’s shaking as she holds on to Lady Rhea. 

_ In time’s flow, see the glow of flames ever burning bright. On the swift river’s drift, broken memories alight. _

Lady Rhea’s hand drops, hanging off Edelgard’s arm. Edelgard tries again, this time choking up with sobs. A tear drips onto Lady Rhea’s cheek as Edelgard holds her tight.

_ In time’s flow, see the glow of flames ever burning bright. On the swift river’s drift, broken memories alight. _

Seteth places a hand on Edelgard’s shoulder, and she stops, looking at him. He shakes his head and kneels, his voice murmuring low to Lady Rhea. He bows his head, “May we meet again.” 

* * *

(13th Day of Red Wolf Moon, 1186)

Like the last major loss this monastery endured, it seems as if time has stopped. When the Knights of Seiros return to the monastery and they see Rhea’s body lying peacefully on the stone table, Catherine collapses to the ground sobbing. They wanted to bury her quickly. Even though Nemesis was wounded, he’s still out there. There is no time for Fodlan to mourn the archbishop.

The only one still moving is Edelgard- from Seteth, she discovers that the battle occurred near Ordelia, Nemesis fled eastward, and they don’t know why he’s headed for Garreg Mach. But Edelgard knows one thing, with Rhea gone, someone needs to defeat Nemesis.

She’s dragged Felix out for training every single day, she can’t use the Sword of the Creator anymore but she can use Aymr.

“You need to stop,” Felix watches her, panting while sitting on the ground. She decapitates a series of dummies with ease, every swing of her axe cutting them down. She’s pushed him to the brink and then some. They’ve been here for three hours and she shows no sign of stopping.

She sighs, setting Aymr down. But she doesn’t turn to look at him. “I should have been there,” she says mutters, looking at the ground. Her hands clench around Aymr’s handle, her nails digging into its grip. “I knew something was wrong and I should have been there.”

“Don’t play the martyr,” Felix snaps angrily. She blamed herself for Glenn, she blamed herself for getting captured. He wasn’t going to let her blame herself again. “You’ve never been good at it.” 

Edelgard looks at him, wounded, and he continues. “Could have, should have, would have. The past is the past and you can’t change it.” He’s thought this since the Tragedy of Kleiman, where Glenn lost his hand. They could all talk about regrets, but it could not change what happened.

Edelgard lops off the head of the final dummy with a swing of Aymr. But she’s done. Her shoulders drop and she walks over, setting Aymr against the wall. She sits down next to Felix, her knees pulled to her chest. She crosses her arms to hide her face. “I am so very tired of losing people.” She murmurs as Felix nods. “And I’m so very tired of having the Agarthans haunt my life.” He bumps his shoulder next to hers as they rest on the dirt floor.

Felix grunts. He would say more but Edelgard has had him on the training grounds for three days in a row for three hours a day starting at 6 am. And then she drags him here again in the afternoon for two more hours of training.

“Why do you think Nemesis is coming to Garreg Mach?” Edelgard asks quietly. She raises her head, her gaze meeting his. “It would be one thing if he was looking for Lady Rhea, but Seteth said that he wasn’t even really interested in her,” she theorizes. “If Lady Rhea wasn’t his primary target, so who was?”

Seteth said they were caught off guard by the appearance of the 10 Elites. They were only shadows of their legendary selves, but Nemesis seemed little more than sentient. He recognized only Rhea and little else. The fact that Nemesis has the 10 Elites by his side is more than worrying. Nemesis is a formidable opponent by himself, but having powerful minions such as them complicates things. The plan is for all the Three Houses to depart when Nemesis resurfaces. Shamir has her spy network in place to let her know when he reappears.

“What could be here that Nemesis wants?” Felix answers brusquely. Seteth said that Nemesis wasn’t sentient. If the Agarthans had been the ones to raise him from the dead, it seemed that he was little more than a weapon rather than a leader.

Edelgard sighs and tilts her head in thought. She gasps, deep in thought. She turns, looking at Felix, her light purple eyes wide and alert. “What if he wants the Sword of the Creator?”

* * *

(13th Day of Red Wolf Moon, 1186)

“The Sword of the Creator?” Seteth asks, incredulous and red-eyed. He has been in his office since Lady Rhea passed away with only Flayn to comfort him. Edelgard came from the training grounds with Felix, sweaty and tired, and with her alternative theory. “You think that Nemesis desires the Sword of the Creator?”

“Yes!” Edelgard insists loudly. The Sword of Creator after Edelgard had her Crest of Flames removed was returned to the Holy Tomb where Sothis and now Rhea slumbered. “Nemesis wielded the Sword of the Creator during the War of Heroes, and TWSiTD gave it to him. It has to be what he is after, it fits!”

“I’m sorry- what?” Claude interjects, standing off to the side. “Who gave him what now?” Ferdinand blinks, everyone knows the story of the War of Heroes and the 10 Elites. Everyone knows that it was the Goddess who gifted him the Sword of the Creator. He used it to save humanity but eventually was corrupted by its power, turning him against Seiros and the Goddess.

Seteth sighs, a long deep sigh, one that indicated long lost secrets were finally coming to light. “If the Sword of the Creator falls into his hands, I don’t think anyone could stop him in that form.” The way they described Nemesis, he was a reanimated corpse. TWSiTD desecrated his body, turning it into their puppet to be used against Lady Rhea.

“But we know what he’s after now,” Edelgard states softly, “That means we can use it.” She stands firm in her belief, it’s hard to believe that he didn’t recognize her at the Officer’s Academy. She hasn’t changed very much.

“Who gave Nemesis the Sword of the Creator?” Claude touches Edelgard’s shoulder. She turns her head slightly, glancing at him. Her eyes dart towards Seteth, watching him. Seteth sighs and nods.

“TWSiTD did,” Edelgard explains quickly, her eyes never leaving Seteth. “The Sword of the Creator itself was forged from the bones of the Goddess, Sothis. She was a Nabatean as was Rhea.” She swallows, taking a step back from them. “They created the rest of Heroes’ Relics.”

Dimitri stares, aghast, “You mean to say that Areadbhar, Failnaught, all of them were created from skeletons.” He almost looks sick to his stomach, paling quickly. House Aegir does not have a Heroes Relic, their crest is from Saint Cichol. But he has seen some of the Heroes Relics up close, being a weapons enthusiast. They do not look like the standard weapon, but he chalked it up to be a gift from the Goddess. But he didn’t imagine their origins to be like this.

Edelgard nods silently. “Aymr was created by them as well. That’s the reason why it looks similar. It wasn’t created from a Nabatean’s body but something from their technology.” She explains Ferdinand remembers Shambhala, a world that looked so different from their own. They never could figure out where all the lights came from.

“Who are the Nabateans?” Claude asks loudly, his gaze resting on Flayn and Seteth both expectantly. Flayn stiffens under his gaze and she looks away. “How do you know all of this?”

“Beings of old,” Edelgard snaps, “and the originators of crests.” She wets her lips. “Wilhelm von Hresvelg made sure to pass this information down the Hresvelg line. My father told me when I was 6, the truth behind the War of Heroes. Lady Rhea filled in the rest.” Everyone goes silent, remembering the fallen archbishop.

“What about Crests?” Ferdinand hears himself saying. “They came from the Nabateans?”

Edelgard sighs, looking at Seteth. She murmurs, “Crests are not gifts from the Goddess. They were most likely implanted in the 10 Elites like the Crest of Flames was done to me, but instead from a second-hand source, it was directly from the Nabatean themselves. As a result, the bloodline is much more potent.” Ferdinand stares at her, mouth agape. She repeats herself. “Crests are not gifts from the Goddess. They never have been. Lady Rhea lied to the Church of Seiros.”

* * *

(15th Day of Red Wolf Moon, 1186)

Ever since word of Rhea’s death spread around the monastery, the decision was made not to include soldiers from across Fodlan. Especially after it became clear that it was Nemesis, and he had the 10 Elites by his side. There will be soldiers from the Alliance supporting them, but this is a battle for the generals that supported Dimitri, Claude, and Ferdinand during the war.

Training has been ramped up for everyone. It had to be. They did not slack off when Shambhala was taken, but it was clear that everyone had believed that the remnants of TWSiTD were all they had to worry about. Not a reanimated corpse of a man dead for almost a millennium.

Alexandria and Edward are confused by the tension surrounding the monastery. Their playmates have been taken away, and even their mother does not have as much time in the day for them.

“But Mama,” Alexandria whines pitifully, “we don’t want to leave.” Nemesis has not surfaced, but Edelgard wants her children as far as away from Garreg Mach as possible. Flayn and Seteth, when they have fully recovered, will go into hiding with the Sword of the Creator. She looks at Dimitri pleadingly, “We don’t want to go, Papa.” Dimitri chokes, just like he has been since he was revealed as their father. The puppy eyes don’t help either.

Edward nods, but he’s looking at his mother instead. Despite being almost a month, Edward still hasn’t warmed up to him yet. Dimitri isn’t sure what he should do. Alexandria seemed to like him instinctively, but Edward still hesitates around him. It is a little galling that he prefers Hubert’s presence over him.

Edelgard kneels, pressing a kiss to Alexandria’s forehead. “I know,” she whispers, squeezing their hands. She looks up at them with a sad smile. “It’ll be another fun trip with Miss Fleche and Mister Glenn, though,” she says encouragingly. “You had fun on that trip, didn’t you?”

“You were sick when we came back,” Edward remarks quietly, watching his mother. “You’re not still sick, are you?” Edelgard stiffens at his question. The answer they gave for the reason why Edelgard was on bed rest for a week was that she was sick. They were disappointed but also seemed used to her bouts of “illness”.

“I’m not sick,” Edelgard promises. “We just have something that we need to take care of,” she smiles, gesturing at both her and Dimitri. “It’s very important for us.”

“Are you getting married?” Alexandria says loudly and suspiciously. They both choke. “Because it’s not very nice to get married without your children there.” Dimitri stares at Edelgard’s head, red-faced. She pointedly does not look up at him.

“No,” Edelgard chides. “We are not getting married,” Dimitri says nothing. Edelgard made her feelings quite clear. And he shouldn’t cause any confusion for Alexandria and Edward.

Alexandria frowns. “Well, you should think about it.”

Dimitri kneels as well to be eye-level with them. “It’s very important for your mother and me for you both to leave with Miss Fleche,” he explains quietly. She begins to pout, but Edward seems to be listening intently. “What we’re doing is very important and it might be dangerous.”

“Dangerous?!” Alexandria exclaims loudly. Edelgard sighs, looking at him and shaking her head. It seems that he chose the wrong words to use. “What do you mean dangerous?”

“Dangerous for four-year-olds,” Edelgard explains pointedly, looking at them both. “It's a grown-up business that we have to take care of.” She cups both of their faces soothingly. 

“Will you protect her?” Edward murmurs, looking Dimitri in the eye. He takes his sister’s hand. “Are you going to protect Mama?” Despite being four, there’s a certain solemnity to Edward that Alexandria doesn’t have. It’s certainly intimidating to be stared down by a four-year-old.

“With my life,” Dimitri swears. Edward nods acceptingly. Perhaps he is finally taking one step into Edward’s affections.

“We’ll go then, Mama,” Edward says to Edelgard, ignoring his sister’s protests. “I love you.”

* * *

(18th Day of Red Wolf Moon, 1186)

Nemesis still hasn’t surfaced yet. It’s been two weeks; Rhea must have injured him severely then. It’s a shame she couldn’t kill him. Dorothea shied away from the war, but she won’t shy away from this battle. She’ll support her friends the best way she can. She has been training with Petra for a while to get ready. She was almost caught off guard in Shambhala, and she vowed that would never happen again. 

It galled her the fact that she couldn’t be in the surgery room while Edelgard was being operated on. Too many people in the room made working difficult, as they explained it to her.

Swords clash as Dorothea spars with Petra. Everyone’s nervous in the monastery. Edelgard barely just got her children to agree to be sent away to Enbarr. Flayn and Seteth are still recovering from their wounds. Once they’re healed, Shamir, Catherine, and Alois will escort them away from Garreg Mach along with the survivors of the Knights of Seiros. If Edelgard’s theory is correct, Nemesis will probably try to follow them. But the idea is to kill him before he gets too close. 

Dorothea disarms Petra with a spin of her sword and smiles triumphantly. Petra was taking it easy on her of course, but it doesn’t mean that she still couldn’t be proud of her progress. Petra claps her hands with pride. “Excellent Dorothea!” 

Dorothea grins, wiping away her sweat. It’s hard to imagine that five years ago she would have never wanted to be seen like this, grimy and ragged. But it’s a sign of how much she’s changed, she no longer seeks the suit of a rich nobleman or woman but instead, she’s free to choose what she wants. 

“Do you wish to have some water?” Petra asks sweetly. Sweet, sweet Petra. One of her few comforts she indulges in, her primary source of reliable information during the war. She heard things on the streets, but those were hardly credible. Dorothea nods and they walk over to the water barrel to quench their thirst. 

Dorothea takes a sip of water while Petra raises the hem of her tunic to wipe the sweat away, revealing glossy sweat covered abs. Dorothea chokes on her water, looking up at Petra’s face and seeing her immaculate biceps. Good goddess, she needs to get laid. Her face turns immediately red, and she looks away.

And sweet, sweet Petra, of course, she notices. “Dorothea?” She asks, concerned, and steps closer to her, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Dorothea says flustered, she drinks more water to combat the heat on her face. She can verbally spar and flirt with the best of them, but there’s something about Petra that rattles her. She shouldn’t be lusting over her like this, especially in this kind of situation where it might be a matter of life or death. They can’t lose this battle.

Petra raises an eyebrow but continues to wipe her sweat away. They return to their swords, sparring the afternoon away. She doesn’t know when Nemesis will resurface, but Dorothea wants to be ready.

After another break, they sit down. It’s almost been 90 minutes and Dorothea feels exhausted, leaning against the wooden walls of the training grounds.

“How are the plans for the orphanage in Enbarr going?” Petra asks curiously, Dorothea’s already confided in her and Manuela over Edelgard’s plans for the palace in Enbarr. Manuela was surprised. The palace in Enbarr has existed for over millennia, and now Edelgard is going to use it to house street urchins in Enbarr. 

“They’re going well enough,” Dorothea hums over her wooden cup of water. “There are so many rooms in the palace, right now it’s just inventorying everything.” Most rooms in the palace have ornate beds and paintings. Even though Edelgard was deposed as emperor, those were her families’ things. 

Edelgard plans to have a smaller museum opened to display the history of Enbarr. Given that there are hundreds of rooms in the palace, they will need to find people to help care for the children, not to mention employees to maintain the palace. 

Once things are more established, Dorothea wants to have the orphans be taught cooking, like Ashe. Not to put them into work, but Dorothea remembers scrambling for things that she could eat- she was never invited to cook in the kitchens in the Officer’s Academy. Even Petra, who was very kind, refused her cooking. It stung at the moment, but even she recognized she had no talents in the kitchen.

Petra nods. Her grandfather grows old and she’ll have to return to Brigid, but not for a few years. Her status as a hostage in Fodlan has changed from captive to diplomat. She will broker deals for Brigid and her grandfather amongst the new leaders. She’ll remain in Fodlan for the next couple of years.

“I see,” Petra says, understanding. They both have a lot of work in front of them for the next couple of years. It will be long, but it will also be worth it. “I will have to return to Brigid in a few months and I was wondering if you would like to come with me?” She asks, adding. “I wish to introduce my grandfather to my friends.”

Dorothea stares, she’s never left Fodlan before. And in a few months, she might need to start organizing the bedrooms in the palace to her specifications. But then she notices the high spots of pink on Petra’s cheeks.  _ Oh.  _ She takes Petra’s hands and smiles. “I’d be honored, Petra.”

* * *

(20th Day of Red Wolf Moon, 1186)

Because Shamir left with Flayn and Seteth, they report to Hubert in her stead. It’s when they’re having tea together- well, Hubert is having coffee- that they receive the report that Nemesis has resurfaced after almost two weeks. 

Hubert frowns, his lips pressed closed together after Shamir’s agent finishes his report. He dismisses him quickly, pondering over the information. “Hubert,” Ferdinand presses him. “Shouldn’t we go tell the others?” Nemesis is still in Alliance territory but is moving quickly towards Garreg Mach. Flayn and Seteth departed almost a day ago, not telling anyone where they were going.

Hubert blinks, Ferdinand’s voice interrupting his train of thought. “Yes,” he nods, Ferdinand grabs his hand and they walk over quickly to where they know Edelgard is training with Claude. Despite his preference for bows, Claude picked up axe training in the past five years. Most likely, Dimitri will be there too.

Even though the last time they saw each other was when they were nine, Ferdinand finds that Edelgard has changed very little. In appearance, she’s not even the same person, but her personality remains the same. Even her time in Faerghus could not remove the Adrestian in her. 

He wonders why she and Dimitri continue to dance around each other as if they weren’t engaged for six years. They had been quite close during the Officer’s Academy. He had envied Dimitri for having such a capable second in command. Hubert was more likely to ignore his orders than to heed them back then. He should have seen who she was. Perhaps all this heartache could have been spared. 

When they enter the training room floor, Edelgard and Claude are sparring. She dodges his axe swing, kicking out a foot to disrupt his balance. She’s not wielding Aymr, but when they face Nemesis on the battlefield, she will be. She has to be. She can no longer wield the Sword of the Creator without the Crest of Flames. There are reports that Nemesis has his own darker version of the Sword of the Creator by his side. They may be rumors, but they paint a picture of a fearsome opponent. 

Dimitri looks up expectantly at his entrance and he feels Hubert stiffen under his hand. When the truth came out about Edelgard and Hubert, Ferdinand felt saddened. Hubert was devoted to Edelgard, even after reports came out that she perished during the Insurrection. He was loyal to her memory. He would have never taken her to Enbarr if he knew what had happened to her siblings, what would happen to her. 

Edelgard knocks Claude off his feet, catching the back of his knee with her foot. Dimitri and Felix are in the area as well, as a pile of broken weapons lay next to them. Dimitri’s been busy. She looks up at Ferdinand and Hubert, sweaty and panting harshly. “Hubert?” She notices the grim look on his face. She says worriedly. “What’s wrong?”

“Shamir’s network has located Nemesis, he’s resurfaced and on his way to Garreg Mach,” Hubert answers, mechanically. Ferdinand eyes him strangely. Something is bothering Hubert.

Edelgard narrows her eyes, “There’s something else wrong.” She states calmly. “What is it?” She wipes the sweat from her forehead away with a drag of her forearm. 

“Nothing is wrong,” Hubert says flatly. “I will make sure that Shamir’s network informs us through owls as we will be on the move.” He turns around with a flap of his cape billowing in the wind. Edelgard raises an eyebrow at Ferdinand. They’ll get the answer out of him later, probably over some tea.

* * *

(25rd Day of Red Wolf Moon, 1186)

They’re on the way to Myrddin Bridge as the latest report from Shamir’s network of spies indicated that Nemesis and the 10 Elites were traveling through the Alliance on the way to Garreg Mach. 

But there’s an issue. There’s no sign of Nemesis anywhere. Shamir’s spies had planted themselves on the way to Garreg Mach to keep an eye on Nemesis as they were traveling too fast to keep track of. A trail of carnage leads them through Gloucester instead. Lorenz looks sick to his stomach. He had to resist calls from the minor lords in his territory, clamoring for him to return to Gloucester. Nemesis had to die instead. 

Leonie squeezes his hand comfortingly. She didn’t expect Lorenz to propose. She was wearing the ring under her gloves. Despite his tastes, he had chosen a simple ring made in silver for her. The design was simple, engraved with vines circling the ring. It didn’t have a jewel on it, which was fine enough for her. Fewer chances for it to catch on anything.

Edelgard runs a hand through her hair frustratingly, reading the reports repeatedly. “He has to be close by somewhere,” Edelgard hisses, thrusting the letters away. She paces, deep in thought. This is one of the ways in Garreg Mach, it’s one of the most direct ways to Garreg Mach.

“If I may, Lady Edelgard?” Hubert asks, standing stiffly. Leonie still doesn’t trust him, after all, he was working with the people who killed Captain Jeralt. They still hadn’t found Byleth either. Leonie isn’t sure if they ever will find them. 

Edelgard’s eyes flicker towards him and she nods quickly. “I have a theory,” he explains darkly. “Nemesis wasn’t headed towards Garreg Mach because he believed that the Sword of the Creator would be there. It was because he sensed that the Sword of the Creator would be there.” Edelgard stills, listening to him speak. She turns her head, staring at him.

“Seteth and Flayn…” She murmurs under her breath. Hubert nods. “He’s gone after them.” She swallows, breathing hard. She shivers, running another hand through her hair. Leonie hopes it isn’t true, but they need to head back to Garreg Mach until more reports of Nemesis reappear. 

A letter comes in from Judith, the Hero of Daphnel, that confirms it. Nemesis and the Ten Elites are crossing over the Oghma mountains and are on a warpath, heading to the western side of Faerghus. The trick they tried to play on Nemesis failed. They must beat Nemesis before he gets his hands on the Sword of the Creator. They’ll have to move fast. 

* * *

(30th Day of Red Wolf Moon, 1186)

They spot the rampage before they see Nemesis. He traveled through the Oghma mountains, through Daphnel and Galatea. Their gambit didn’t pay off. They meet him on the Talitean Plains, where he was first killed by Saint Seiros.

They had to travel fast, relying on word from Ingrid’s family as he trampled through Galatea. They dare not try to stop him, only providing a fast word that Nemesis had been through their lands. Dimitri was afraid that he was headed for Fhirdiad, but wherever Flayn and Seteth took the Sword of the Creator, it was in Faerghus.

Nemesis moves quickly, a black dot on the horizon that comes closer and closer as they move to intersect him. They don’t know where Flayn and Seteth took the Sword of the Creator, but Claude hopes that they can stop him in time before he gets his hands on it. He never saw Teach cut mountains with it, but he doesn't want to watch Nemesis do it either.

They are a ways away from Nemesis when he stills, raising a fist in the air. The Ten Elites around him stop and his head eerily turns to stare at them. They beat him to the Talitean Plains but if the Sword of the Creator was his true goal, Claude would have assumed that he would have avoided him. Rhea almost killed him after all.

Edelgard narrows her eyes, wielding Aymr tightly in her grasp. “Is he running towards us?” She mutters quietly. All of them are here, waiting to clash on the Talitean Plains with Nemesis and his Ten Elites. It will be their version of the War of Heroes, encapsulated in one final showdown where history was made. History is going to be made again tonight.

“Yes, he is,” Dimitri confirms. Despite the gory beginnings of the Heroes’ Relics being revealed to them, they still wield them. After all, if they’re going to defeat Nemesis properly, they are going to need every advantage they can get. He wields Areadbhar, raising it. The others get ready into position as Nemesis charges towards them and the Ten Elites closely behind.

Claude sighs, patting Ayla on the back. His mother did say that Fodlan would be exciting when he first broached the topic of visiting her homeland. He wasn’t sure she was expecting this, though. He mounts Ayla, rising in the air. As Nemesis draws closer and closer, he aims an arrow with Failnaught at him. He didn’t say that he was going to fight fair.

He aims for the gap between Nemesis’ armor, near his armpit. He can’t get a kill shot from here, but he’s going to make Nemesis’s second life as difficult as possible. He releases the arrow, and it flies through the air. It hits Nemesis, plunging into his flesh, and he… just shrugs it off. He rips the arrow out, breaking it in his hand. Something’s not right.

“Hresvelg!” He shouts and Edelgard tenses. Nemesis slams his Sword of the Creator down as Edelgard dodges, using a Hades spell to knock Nemesis off his feet. The Ten Elites clash against their friends, and the entire battlefield descends into chaos. Dimitri stabs Areadbhar through his shoulder, pulling it back, leaving a gash of black blood. But Nemesis ignores him. His focus is wholly on Edelgard.

Edelgard raises Aymr as Nemesis rushes towards her, blocking him with it. Now that Claude can see it better, it’s not the Sword of the Creator he wields. It looks very similar, but it’s not. Dark flames surround his sword, whereas the Sword of Creator had more of a warm glow around it. Claude lets another arrow loose at a Holy Knight wielding a weapon that resembled Luin. Well, that was Judith’s ancestor he fired on. He assumed that she wouldn’t mind.

Edelgard dodges another strike, slicing through Nemesis’s chest with a grunt. All those weeks of training with Petra and Felix are serving her well. She launches a small Fire spell, burning through his flesh. He ignores it, launching himself after again. “Traitor!” He screams, aiming for her head.

Lysithea casts a Seraphim spell, one of the largest he’s ever seen her wield, and it blows Nemesis off his feet. All around them battle continues as the Ten Elites, while dead and reanimated, still remain fearsome opponents. 

He spots Ingrid clashing in the air with a Falcon Knight wielding a heavy shield. Petra and Dedue are offering her support in the skies. He should probably get up there himself, there’s a wyvern master roaming around there as well. Cyril blocks a lance thrust from a Dark Knight, pushing him away as Lysithea prepares a Dark Spikes spell for their enemy.

Nemesis lies flat on his back as Edelgard and Dimitri watch them carefully. The surrounding battle is filled with clashing struggles that they can keep half their attention on him. “Is he dead?” Claude asks, barely in the air on Ayla.

Edelgard shakes her head. “I don’t think so.” She murmurs, readying Aymr. “He should be dead at least three times over,” she mutters. Not many can survive a blow from Aymr, let alone one of Lysithea’s spells.

“Let’s just assume he’s not human,” Claude answers back. After all, while an arrow to an armpit didn’t mean death, people couldn’t just shrug it off. “He seems awfully preoccupied with you, Princess.” He remarks, aiming Failnaught just in case.

Nemesis rises, his movements are jerky, stiff, unnatural even. His torso rose, and you could almost hear the vertebrae adjusting to a position they were no longer capable of. His legs stayed unmoving, as still as a statue, as if no life had ever been in them. His head flops to the side but raised with an unnatural jerk. “What the hell,” Dimitri mutters, raising Areadbhar across his chest. Something really isn’t right with Nemesis, more than usual.

Claude aims another arrow at him, striking him in the neck He shrugs it off, yanking it out of his throat without a care, to launch himself at Edelgard. She dodges with a side step, watching him warily. Realization dawns on her as she batters him back with another blow. 

“Go take care of the Ten Elites!” She shouts, brandishing Aymr. “He’s after me so he won’t go after you!” She takes off, sprinting through the battlefield. Claude stares at her. She really is crazy.

“Edelgard!” Dimitri yells as Nemesis rises once more and runs after her.

“She’ll be fine,” Claude reassures, watching Nemesis chase after Edelgard. “She can take care of herself,” he shakes his head. He orders Ayla to take to the skies. Ingrid and the others need him up there.

With the help of Petra and Dedue, Claude easily snipes down the pegasus wings of the zombie Daphnel. They crash to the ground but Claude realizes with horror, that like Nemesis, Daphnel still lives. Caspar lops offs Daphnel’s head with a chop of his axe. Linhardt burns the body.

He spots Mercedes and Sylvain taking on the corpse of Gautier, Sylvain wielding the Lance of Ruin against its original owner. No one seems to be bothered because they’re fighting the reanimated corpses of their ancestors. But then again, it is the battlefield, and blood ties mean nothing.

He spots a red blur on the field as Edelgard leaps over another corpse, Aymr in tow. Nemesis is not far behind. She turns and slashes at his arm, cutting it off at the elbow triumphantly. His Sword of the Creator drops the ground and yet, he still lunges at her with his bare hand. He really wants her dead. Edelgard dodges, kicking out at him with her boots and she takes off running once more.

Nemesis grunts, grabbing his amputated arm. He smashes it against his bloodied elbow. Claude watches, fascinated in the air. The Agarthans must have really fucked with his body because he flexes with his hand, lifting his Sword of the Creator into the air.

He refocuses his attention on the battlefield, looking at the Wyvern Lord battling against Ingrid. He raises Failnaught, aiming at the wings of the wyvern. After all, he never fought fairly. 

* * *

(30th Day of Red Wolf Moon, 1186)

Dimitri didn’t like the idea of leaving Edelgard alone to face the wrath of Nemesis, who seemed like his sole purpose was Edelgard’s death. The way he pursued her across the battlefield, ignoring everyone, disturbed him. But Edelgard ran, slicing and cutting at his body whenever she could. But Nemesis was undisturbed, Edelgard was his quarry, and he was the hunter.

Stabbing the once-dead body of his ancestor with Areadbhar, Dimitri refocuses on the battlefield. He is covered in cuts as Blaiddyd proved difficult to kill, even with the help of Ferdinand and Hubert. “Where is Edelgard?” Ferdinand wonders, watching Dimitri. “Where did she go?” Dimitri whirls around. The last time he lost sight of her on the battlefield… it wasn’t an experience he’d like to remember.

In the light of the setting sun, he spots the animated corpse of Nemesis, standing over her with his Sword of the Creator raised in the air. She’s wounded, curled up on the floor. Aymr is on the ground next to her. Her hair is loose and dirty, her crown broken into pieces.

Dimitri’s hackles rise, he’s not losing her again. He throws Areadbhar across the field, piercing Nemesis through the side. Areadbhar isn’t supposed to be used as a javelin, but Dimitri’s made other lances work. 

An arrow impales Nemesis through the throat. On the other side is Claude, lowering Failnaught. Edelgard grabs Aymr, carving Nemesis through the middle. His torso flops to the ground as Edelgard stands up with a hand from Claude, staring down at the halved body of Nemesis. It twitches on the ground. Nemesis’s hands grabbing at the dirt. His head snarls at her as his arms scrabble at the dirt. Dimitri rushes over as Edelgard raises Aymr.

She removes his head, blood splattering against her clothes. “Gross,” Claude says, covering his face with his arm. “A little warning next time, Princess?” Edelgard rolls her eyes, kicking away Nemesis’s decapitated head with little care. She removes the hands next. “Princess, what are you doing?” Claude asks, watching her. “He’s dead.”

Edelgard fixes him with a flat stare. “I’ve been chased by him for twenty minutes, hacking away at his body. He should be dead a dozen times over.” She mutters, removing his arms at the elbows, blood gushing everywhere. “I’m not taking any chances.”

She continues her work, removing his arms at the shoulders. The body has stopped twitching now at the very least. With the Ten Elites dead, the others slowly converge on them. Edelgard cuts away at Nemesis’s body, breaking his torso into pieces. She’s being very diligent in the disposal of his corpse. Dimitri wonders if this would be considered a desecration of his body, seeing what the Agarthans did with it in the first place.

The night begins to fall as the others wait for orders from them. They need to set up camp. They need to figure out where Flayn and Seteth went with the Sword of the Creator. They need to write letters to the nobility who are waiting on news from them. They need to rest. They’ve been searching for Nemesis for over a week across Fodlan.

The others leave Edelgard as she begins to hack away at his legs, cutting his body into smaller and smaller parts. They make camp in the distance as the small campfires dot in the distance.

But Edelgard continues. She ignores the black blood flying everywhere, staining her clothing. Dimitri stays with her, watching. When she’s finished, she takes a step back and ignites Nemesis’s body on fire with a Bolganone spell, turning into ash. Dimitri watches entranced as the flames dance around her. She was always very diligent.

The flames die down and there’s nothing left but ash. “Done?” Dimitri asks, staring at her. Half of her clothing is covered in the black blood. All the Ten Elites had black blood given the state of the others’ clothing. He wonders if it was a trademark of the Agarthans. He tries to remember if his uncle had black blood when he crushed his skull in the halls of the palace.

Edelgard nods, tiredly. She takes one step and collapses, Dimitri catching her in his arms. He lifts her, sliding his arm under her knees and cradling her head against her chest. Every time he does this, he’s shocked by the realization of how small she is. How fragile she could be. Well, that wouldn’t be the correct term, given what he just witnessed. She slumbers in his arms as he carries her protectively. He presses a small kiss to her forehead and carries her back to camp.


	33. Part IV Chapter VII

* * *

(2nd Day of Ethereal Moon, 1186)

Instead of heading back to Garreg Mach from the Talitean Plains, they go to Fhirdiad instead. King Lambert sent men from Fhirdiad to escort them. People heard there was another battle on the fields where history would be made a second time. It seems that there were even witnesses to the battle, watching the Ten Elites face off against them. Like Ashe and Annette predicted, it was a battle that would go down in history.

As they are escorted into the capital, they hear the cheers and cries of the civilians. The story of Nemesis’s revival and Rhea’s death spread across Fodlan. Everyone has heard how Nemesis ravaged the countryside on his hunt for the Sword of the Creator. They saved Fodlan.

When they reach the palace, Edelgard fidgets. She stared at the city and its new changes. King Lambert took his reforms seriously, modernizing the city effectively. There were aqueducts leading up to the palace as the streets were made wider to accommodate the traffic. “So much has changed,” she murmurs under her breath with Aymr latched across her back. “I hardly recognize it.”

“It has been more than ten years,” Felix scoffs, a large scar adorning the side of his face. They were able to heal the wound, but it would scab over. “Cheer up, the old man will be happy to see you.”

Edelgard looks down, muttering. “That’s what I am afraid of.” They walk up the streets to the palace, where they see King Lambert and Lord Rodrigue waiting on the walls. Dorothea pats Edelgard on the back comfortingly as she stares up the steps leading to the gates. Edelgard exhales, stretching her shoulders. Dimitri resists the urge to hold her hand. It has been more than ten years since she’s seen the walls of the palace.

When they reach the walls, the gates open and King Lambert and Lord Rodrigue wait in the courtyard. The Blue Lions kneel, greeting their king with respect. The others bow, showing their respect to a king of an ally country. However, with Claude and Dimitri leading the way, who knows how long that will last. “Rise,” King Lambert orders, and the Blue Lions rise from their knees. He greets both Ferdinand and Claude warmly, shaking both of their hands.

Edelgard stands in the back, avoiding his gaze. They haven’t set eyes on each other in ten years.

“Father,” Dimitri greets warmly. He knows Edelgard is hiding but he’ll give her a few minutes before thrusting her into the fire. King Lambert leans heavily on his cane. “Is it alright if we stay here for the night?” He asks softly, “Before we return to Garreg Mach?”

King Lambert nods, “Of course.” His eyes never leave the pale white hair of Edelgard. “Edelgard, stay behind if you please.” Felix’s eyes flicker towards her, patting her on the shoulder.

The others leave for their quarters, Edelgard is frozen in place and Dimitri stands next to her.

Her purple eyes flicker up to King Lambert’s. “Your majesty, milord,” as she falls to her knee and murmurs. “It is good to see you.”

King Lambert stumbles forward, his cane tapping against the ground. He embraces her tightly, “I’m so sorry, El.” He murmurs, his arms wrapping around her. His cane clatters to the floor. “I’m so sorry.”

Edelgard wraps her arms around him, burying her head into his shoulder. “It’s not your fault,” she whispers, repeating. “It’s not your fault.”

* * *

(3rd Day of Ethereal Moon, 1186)

The palace in Fhirdiad is pretty big but doesn’t quite compare to the one in Enbarr. Just going from one end of the palace to the other made Hilda tired and they had only been on the first floor. Fighting against the Ten Elites was tough and Hilda was glad that they could rest in Fhirdiad before heading back to Garreg Mach. A couple of their friends were injured, not gravely, but just enough to need rest in a few days before they went back. Which meant a few days in Fhirdiad.

News has already spread across Fodlan, telling of Nemesis’s defeat at Edelgard’s hands. Well, Claude and Dimitri played a role as well but it was Edelgard who chopped him up into tiny pieces and set his body on fire. A little bit of overkill but Hilda saw Edelgard almost decapitate him and he was still running around so….understandable.

She and Marianne are exploring the stables, one of Marianne’s biggest wishes. Faerghus has the best pegasi and horses in all of Fodlan. It’s what they’re known for, raising mounts. Marianne’s pretty eyes get so big as she examines the stables. Marianne drags her from one stall to the next, saying high to each horse and pony. She never lets go of Hilda’s hand. She’s in heaven.

Marianne coos over a baby horse, stroking its mane. Hilda has to smile at that, it’s one of the cutest things she’s ever seen. A courier steps in the stables, his head poking around. “Miss Goneril?” He asks, bowing. “A letter for you,” he murmurs, holding a folded note.

Hilda sighs, slightly upset at having her time with Marianne ruined. 

Marianne releases her hand, continuing to explore the stables. Hilda peels open the letter, skimming through it quickly.

_My_ _Dearest Hilda,_

_ I am happy to hear that Nemesis falls at Lady Edelgard’s hands. He was a threat to Fodlan’s peace, and he had no place here. I’ve received a letter from Almyra’s ruling monarch, King Tariq addressed to you. I’ve enclosed that letter for you and hope that it brings good news for you. We still need to discuss your plans regarding Fodlan’s Locket. I support you, sister but I fear that the others in the Alliance will not. Safe travels, Hilda. I hope to see you soon. _

_ Holst. _

Hilda giggles at the incredibly large flourish that her older brother signs with. She knows he’s back to normal now. She’s glad he’s recovered, the healers indicated that it was touch and go for a moment. She was close to asking Marianne if she would travel to Goneril territory to look after her brother. She’s glad that they didn’t have to go to such lengths.

But the King of Almyra finally responded to her letter, which was good. Poor Cyril helped her and eventually they turned to a very old Almyran dictionary to write it. When they were done…it wasn’t the greatest letter she had ever written.

Marianne watches her curiously, “Good news?” She asks softly as Hilda removes the second piece of parchment from the envelope. Hilda nods, mindlessly. She opens that letter, finding a special seal enclosed on it. It looks very familiar to ones used in Fodlan.

She blinks, finding the very familiar scrawl. It’s in Fodlanese. The King of Almyra knows Fodlanese. Interesting. That means that she and Cyril went through the struggle of writing a letter in poorly translated and written Almyran when the King knew Fodlanese. Well, at least she doesn’t have to write in the future. She finishes the letter, staring at the closing words.

“Hilda?” Marianne presses, her small hand tugging at her sleeve. “Is everything okay?”

Hilda looks up, staring at Marianne. “The King of Almyra wants me to visit.”

* * *

(3rd Day of Ethereal Moon, 1186)

Ashe and Dedue helped Edelgard pick out a bouquet of white carnations. She didn’t say what she wanted them for. But Dedue has worked in the greenhouses in Fhirdiad long enough to be familiar with what grows in them.

Edelgard stares at the bouquet of white carnations, almost as if summoning up her courage. “Dedue,” she murmurs, the bouquet sitting in her lap of her white dress. Her white hair cascading down her back. “Do you know where the graveyard is?”

Dedue raises his head from a potted plant to stare at her. “I do,” he confirms. “But if you’re looking for Queen Patricia’s grave, King Lambert chose to have a memorial elsewhere.” Edelgard’s head lifts, watching him. “I can show you where it is.” He has gone there many times with Dimitri, when he visits her grave. Dimitri likes the company even if he says nothing when he is there.

Edelgard shakes her head. “Just point me in the right direction,” she murmurs gently, running a finger over the soft petals. White carnations were in season year round so it was not difficult gathering up flowers for her. They will leave for Garreg Mach soon and he understands if Edelgard wishes to pay her respects. He wonders how she could have been so level-headed only days after losing her mother in the Tragedy of Kleiman.

Dedue gives her directions and she departs with a small smile, her skirts following behind her. He watches her back leave the greenhouse towards the lower parts of the palace.

“Queen Patricia?” Ashe’s head pokes out from behind the roses. “Who was she?” He asks curiously, some dirt on his face. He has visited his family while in the palace, they are under the care of King Lambert, a favor for one of Dimitri’s friends. He has been in a better mood as of late.

Dedue clears his throat. “She was King Lambert’s second wife, I believe, as well as Edelgard’s birth mother,” he notes, busying himself with the pot. He learned more about her when they returned from Garreg Mach the first time. He had his own questions about Edelgard that he did not feel that he should bother Dimitri with. He should visit Duscur some time to see his mother and sister. He misses them.

“Oh.” Ashe says, sadly. “What happened to her?” He asks, vaguely, pruning some flowers. They both like to keep their hands busy. In a few month’s time, Ashe will accept a position in King Lambert’s Royal Guard. Dedue will remain by Dimitri’s side as always.

“She died, during the Tragedy of Kleiman,” Dimitri’s voice interrupts their thoughts. “She disappeared there and her body was never found.” He looks around, his eyes darting everywhere. He is wearing black trousers with a white tunic. Dedue stops himself from asking Dimitri where his coat is. It is winter in Faerghus, it is cold. “Have you seen Edelgard? I need to speak to her.”

“She went to go visit Queen Patricia’s memorial,” Dedue answers readily. His hands still in his work, the canteen of water weighing heavily in his hand. “She did not know exactly where it was but I gave her directions there.”

Dimitri pales but nods. “I see, thank you Dedue.” He stalks off, his feet moving at a fast pace. Dedue continues to water the plants.

Ashe shakes his head, focusing on snipping dead parts off the plants. The less said about their situation the better, Dedue notes. Sylvain has tried to drag him into gossip about Dimitri and Edelgard but Dedue wants no part of it. Their situation is complicated. He does not blame them.

* * *

(3rd Day of Ethereal Moon, 1186)

Dimitri finds her sitting in front of Patricia’s memorial, her knees pulled to her chest. The small bouquet of white carnations have already been placed on the ground. His father erected this small memorial for her as her body was never located. They searched the location of the attack and never found a trace of her. Her carriage had been destroyed and her remains never found.

She stares unblinkingly at the memorial, her head tilted to the side. Her white hair drapes over her shoulder, brushing against the ground. “Do you think I look like her?” She asks quietly. She’s noticed Dimitri’s presence but she’s not looking at him.

He bends down and sits next to her, trying to remember his stepmother’s face. It’s been more than ten years- it’s hard to conjure up her image in his mind. “I think you do.” He says quietly, he remembers that Patricia had the same eyes as Edelgard and her brother. She shared the same dark hair as her brother though. Dimitri realizes that Edelgard must have inherited her brown hair color from her father.

She shakes her head sadly. “I must look like what she would have when she grew older,” Edelgard notes quietly, her eyes not leaving the memorial. Dimitri’s own father already has white hairs blending in with his blond strands. Yes, as his stepmother aged with his father, she would have looked a lot like Edelgard and her white hair.

“She would have been beautiful, like you.” Dimitri remarks, sitting cross-legged. He hasn’t sat in the dirt for a long time. “If she was still alive.” Dimitri doesn’t remember Patricia’s face, but he remembers the attack just like yesterday. How the flames burned around them and the dying screams of the Royal Guard. In their hurry to escape, they never even looked for Patricia.

Edelgard doesn’t say anything and they sit in silence for a while. Edelgard rests her chin on her elbows, staring at the monument blankly. His father had this created after Edelgard left for Fraldarius with Felix, Glenn, and Lord Rodrigue. This would have been the first time she’s ever seen it.

“We weren’t close, you know.” Edelgard remarks quietly. “She tried, but I pushed her away.” Dimitri stares at her, Edelgard spent most of her time with him or in the training field when they were at Fhirdiad. He never noticed it because while Edelgard was the “adopted” daughter of the Queen, they were quite distant from each other. “She left Enbarr when I was young, I hardly remembered her. I was so angry that my uncle took me from my family, from my siblings, and from my father. Then he left me there.”

Dimitri sits there, listening to her speak. He resists the urge to hold her hand; he doesn’t think that she would appreciate it. And she’s finally opening up to him. Even when he knew who she was, Edelgard never spoke to him about how she felt about Enbarr and about her family.

She turns her head, looking at him with sorrowful eyes. “But she loved me. She didn’t know me, but she loved me.” A tear leaks from the corner of her eye and she looks down at her knees.

“Of course she would love you,” Dimitri says automatically. “It’s hard not to love you. I still love you.” He’s kept it from her, from everyone, but he has never stopped loving her, even after all these years. He doesn’t know how she feels about him, but it matters little to him. He will never stop loving her.

Edelgard freezes, a horrified look coming on her face. “What? No- Dimitri, you can’t-” she says wildly, she stands up, looking down at him. “You can’t say that, Dimitri,” her lip trembles as she looks around furiously. “You can’t.”

“And why not?” Dimitri retorts. “Why can I say I’m in love with you when I am?” He asks, he didn’t imagine what kind of life he would lead after the war. He didn’t plan that far ahead. But he knows what he wants and he wants her, desperately.

“You are going to be king!” Edelgard shouts at him. “You cannot have feelings for me. If you are going to lead Fodlan to a brighter future, you can’t love your enemy,” She states bluntly, fire in her eyes.

“You weren’t the enemy!” Dimitri shouts back, standing up to her. He towers over her. “You were manipulated into-”

She cuts him off, taking a step forward. “The people don’t know that!” She screams, her voice going shrill. “They don’t know what my family went through. All they’ll see is a weak king! One that is ruled by emotions and sentimentality.” She stops and takes a deep breath. She takes a step back. “You can’t love me Dimitri. Because I’m not worth it. And I will not have you viewed as a weak king.” She turns and leaves, leaving Dimitri at the memorial of his stepmother, the one who started all of this.

* * *

(8th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1186)

Something happened between the boar and Edelgard but no one’s saying what. Everyone can sense it, the tension that disappeared earlier this year is back again. They can’t even bear to look at each other.

They head back to Garreg Mach with King Lambert and the old man in tow. Something’s going with Hilda and Almyra and she says that it’s probably best if they both come.

Felix isn’t sure if they’ve told them about the twins- they probably haven’t, seeing the look on King Lambert’s face when he sees the two of them barreling into Edelgard’s knees.

“Mama!” Alexandria shouts loudly. “We missed you!” Her bright blue eyes stare adoringly at Edelgard with Edward still wrapped around her knees, resting his head above her kneecaps. The King and his old man stare.

Edelgard sighs, kneeling. She presses a kiss to each of their foreheads. “I missed you too,” she says quietly. “Were you good for Miss Fleche and Mister Glenn?” Edward puts his hands up, a recognized sign that he wants to be held. Edelgard lifts him into her arms, leaning him against her hip. Alexandria pouts but only for a minute, clinging to her mother’s hands.

“We were!” Alexandria exclaims proudly. She smiles brightly when she sees Dimitri, “Papa!” She hurls herself into his arms, jumping on him. He catches her, his arm resting beneath her knees.

“Oh Goddess,” his old man says under his breath, watching the scene unfold. His knees buckle underneath him and he faints. Felix catches him before his head hits the ground.

“Is he okay?” Alexandria peers down at the old man, sitting in Dimitri’s arms. “Is he dead?” She asks bluntly. She loops her arms around Dimitri’s shoulder, kissing him on the cheek. King Lambert stares at them wide-eyed. Dimitri meets his eyes guiltily and nods.

King Lambert clutches his chest. “I need to sit down.” He mutters to himself, looking for the nearest bench. Felix hauls his father’s unconscious body over, resting him on the bench.

“You didn’t tell them?” Felix asks wryly once he puts his father down. He looks at both Edelgard and Dimitri expectantly, both of them avoiding his gaze.

“Tell them what?” Alexandria asks boldly. Edward’s eyes darted from Dimitri to King Lambert. It’s always the quiet ones. Felix knows that best.

“He’s your father, isn’t he?” Edward says flatly, looking at Dimitri. “Which means he’s our grandfather.” Dimitri stills underneath his son’s accusing gaze. Dimitri’s being intimidated by his five year old son, it’d be a comedic scene if his father wasn’t unconscious.

Edelgard presses a kiss to his forehead. “Edward,” she admonishes quietly, supporting him against her hip. “How do you explain them?” Edelgard explains quietly. “I’d rather they meet them first than hear about them.”

Felix shakes his head, rolling his eyes. She and the boar had been affectionate at the monastery but he wasn’t expecting children. Sylvain knew, he and Ingrid pried the answer out of him when they first saw Alexandria and Edward. But in a way, he understood. He certainly wasn’t going to tell the old man about the first time he had sex. Or how he had sex.

“Our grandfather?” Alexandria tilts her head curiously. “We have a grandfather?!” She shrieks, looking at King Lambert. She pokes at Dimitri’s chest to put her down. “What’s your name?”

“Alexandria,” Edelgard implores, moving Edward around. “That isn’t very nice.” When Dimitri puts her back down on the floor, Alexandria stares at King Lambert expectantly, watching him.

“My name is Lambert Egitte Blaiddyd,” King Lambert says quietly. “May I ask for yours please?” Felix’s seen that look before. It’s the same as Dimitri’s when he first saw the two, hungry and devouring every single detail about them.

Alexandria smiles brightly and curtsies. “I’m Alexandria Von Hresvelg,” she grabs at Edward’s hand. “And this is my brother, Edward Von Hresvelg.” She glances at Dimitri and Edelgard. “Or is Von Blaiddyd? They haven’t told us yet.”

* * *

(9th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1186)

Hilda hums to herself, writing another letter to King Tariq. Marianne sits with her as they share some tea. Hilda has been rather busy, sending letters back and forth. Hilda has a soft smile on her face as she re-reads her letter.

Marianne helped her and Cyril draft that first awkward letter but it seemed that King Tariq found it charming rather than lacking. Marianne isn’t sure where King Tariq would have learned Fodlan, she’s never heard in Alliance history where a member of the Alliance corresponded with the King of Almyra. Hilda’s making history with this.

They haven’t brought up the idea of demilitarizing Fodlan’s Locket to the rest of the Alliance. Marianne has a feeling that it won’t be taken very well. It doesn’t even seem like Claude intends to call a meeting in regards to these peace talks. She knows she should be upset at the idea, but she trusts Claude to have the Alliance’s best intentions at heart.

King Tariq broached the idea of an in person meeting earlier this month. Hilda still isn’t very sure about it- considering the logistics of said meeting will be a nightmare as Hilda has complained in bed. But peace would be worth it. If they were able to close Fodlan’s Locket as a military base, they could open up a whole new country to trading. That would please the merchants at the very least. And if the rumors were true, the luxury goods in Almyra couldn’t compare to anywhere else. It’d be a whole new world for Fodlan.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you,” Hilda apologizes, folding up the letter. “But he’s very insistent on us visiting,” she says quietly. She puts a hand on her chin, contemplating. “I’ve been trying to find a way to politely decline him for now. I think it would be interesting to visit Almyra, but it’s much too soon since we’ve started writing.”

Marianne nods, taking a sip of her tea. Lorenz gave her some Rose Petal Blend earlier this week and she’s sharing it with Hilda today. Everyone will have to return back to their homes, their duties, which they’ve shoved away for this year because of the war, they’ll have to return to.

Because of the “leadership” she displayed through the war, Duke Edmund has written to her about expanding her duties. Marianne isn’t sure what he means. She was adopted for her crest, but Duke Edmund never married. She’s been able to skirt by, managing his household in Edmund, but it seems that he wants to increase her role in preparation for inheriting his title. Is she ready to do that? Marianne’s isn’t sure.

“When would the Almyra visit happen?” Marianne asks curiously, setting down her tea. The Alliance is not fond of Almyra- their constant attacks on Fodlan’s Locket drain resources and men and the Almyrans are not interested in negotiating. If the Alliance could figure out what the Almyrans wanted, everyone would be much happier.

Hilda plays with the strands of her hair, fussing with it. “I’m not sure,” Hilda frowns, she looks around, lowering her voice. “If we don’t bring it up to the Roundtable, things could go a lot faster.” She muses, drumming her fingers on the table. Marianne stills at words, Hilda notices. “Right? That’s basically treason if we do that,” Hilda remarks, leaning back against her chair. “If I try to speak as a representative of the Alliance, it could open House Goneril to a lot of criticism.”

“Who would go?” Marianne asks curiously, with Edmund so situated in the north, the mountains are too high and cold for the Almyrans to attack. With the mountains lower near Fodlan’s Throat and the weather more temperate, the Almyrans attack there much more often.

“I’d have to go,” Hilda ticks off her finger. “Obviously. The others, I’m not sure,” she frowns. “I’d want to make a small delegation. This is just to open talks, we’re not looking to make any ground-breaking deals.” Right now, the countries of Fodlan are in stasis. The Empire still functions as it does, just without an Emperor. Claude and the others are leaning towards unification, which is a controversial topic. But unification has its benefits. They would not need to worry about trade borders. But each country functions differently.

The Empire had the Seven leading the way first with Duke Aegir and then Lord Arundel. The Emperor hasn’t wielded true power since the Insurrection.

The Kingdom has King Lambert leading but as half the Kingdom defected with Cornelia during the war, his situation is in upheaval as well. He hasn’t made a decision on those who rebelled against him, they’ve been under house arrest ever since Arianrhod fell. He’s made reforms before the war but they’ve stagnated for almost six years.

The Alliance has always been a mess. Even with Claude leading them, it’s hard to implement any real change because at any given time, a coalition of nobles who disagree with the reforms could launch a fearsome opposition. Hopefully with their classmates eventually inheriting their titles, they can provide Claude a more friendly support, but that’s still years away.

And then there’s the Church of Seiros. Because Lady Rhea had disappeared, they were left in disarray. They were beginning to reorganize but with the death of the archbishop, it’s another blow to them. They were planning on finding a replacement for her in her retirement but her death changes things.

Fodlan is changing before their eyes. The winds of change are here. Will they fight against them or will they lead the way?

* * *

(12th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1186)

Linhardt looks over the list of his things one more time. They’re going to leave for a trip around Fodlan- Caspar’s already told his dad that he has no intentions of inheriting the title of Count Bergliez and Linhardt has done the same with his family. Besides, from the way Ferdinand and the others are talking, the usual titles of the nobility might not be here in a generation or two.

Caspar fidgets, his things already packed. They’re going to pack light for this trip, any earthly possession that they own Bernadetta will keep for them at Castle Varley when they return. They’ll be back, it might be a couple of months or a year, but they’ll come back to their friends. They’ve already promised another five-year reunion during the Winter Festival, so they have four more years to go. It’s hard to believe that it’s been a year since they all reunited. So many things have happened in a year, it’s hard to believe.

He’s reunited with his friends and Fleche and Randolph. Their mother died a few years ago so Caspar never got the chance to see her again.

“Are you sure you want to come with me?” Caspar blurts out, as Linhardt muses over his list. He knew he was lucky five years ago that Lin came with him, but he wasn’t expecting him to come again.

Linhardt raises one eyebrow, barely looking over his list. Linhardt already said that he intends to do Crest Research when they settle down, but Caspar always figured that he would do it now rather than later. He wasn’t expecting a friend on this trip.

Hubert and Ferdinand are somehow together, which he isn’t going to ask because he doesn’t want to know. Dorothea and Petra will leave for Enbarr soon, and eventually Brigid because Petra wants to show Dorothea her home. Mercedes will leave for Fhirdiad with Annette and the other Blue Lions to oversee the creation of an orphanage to rival the one that Dorothea is setting up. Bernadetta will leave for Varley County with Raphael at the end of the month as well once the Winter Festival has passed. Ignatz will go with Lorenz and Leonie, who are engaged, back to Gloucester county where Ignatz will work as a painter.

Caspar wants to explore Fodlan and beyond. He wasn’t expecting Linhardt, though.

“You’ve already asked me that,” Linhardt responds, tiredly. He sets down the list of supplies. Since this trip will be a long one, they need to make sure that they’re well-prepared. When they left Garreg Mach after it fell, the months after that showed how unprepared they were. They’ve gotten open invites from everyone if they ever need a place to stay, which is nice of everyone. Caspar certainly wasn’t expecting friendships like these from Garreg Mach. “And I said yes.” Linhardt’s eyes meet Caspar’s and he looks away.

“But are you sure?” Caspar pushes back. “I thought you wanted to do crest research and stuff.” Professor Manuela is retiring from the Mittlefrank Opera again to oversee the new medical system in Enbarr. They’re testing it out there to see if they can replicate it in other cities of Fodlan. Professor Hanneman will be based in Enbarr as well, further researching Crest Removal and Implantations in a more humane way. Edelgard and Lysithea seem to believe that there were other victims that survived TWSiTD’s experimentations.

“I wanted to be with you too,” Linhardt says simply, looking at Caspar who freezes. “Crest Research can wait.”

_ Oh.  _ Caspar swallows nervously, wetting his lips. He looks down. His gaze flickers up towards Linhardt, who’s already moved on with his list. “Wait up, Lin!” He chases after him, feeling lighter than ever before.

* * *

(15th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1186)

“Are you planning anything for Dimitri’s birthday?” Sylvain asks Edelgard bluntly, she’s having tea with Dorothea in the pavilion and her kids are with King Lambert and Lord Rodrigue. Lord Rodrigue apparently fainted during the reveal and Felix has been having a fun time teasing him about it.

Edelgard chokes on her food, coughing. Dorothea glares at him, patting her on the back. No longer red faced, she says slowly, “No, I’m not.” Sylvain sighs, it had seemed that things had been going better between the two of them but since they returned from Fhirdiad, things had turned cold. Edelgard sighs, “I don’t really have anything planned for the children either,” she admits, looking away. “Things got away from me that I didn’t really plan anything.”

Sylvain shrugs, “Understandable, killing a relic from the past is kind of distracting,” he sits down at the table with them. “But given your kids love and adore you, I’m pretty sure you could give them a stuffed animal and they’d be okay with it.” He cracks a grin at her and she rolls her eyes but smiles. As far as kids go, Alexandria and Edward are pretty good. Edward still side eyes him a bit but it’s not the worst thing in the world. He side eyes everyone.

Edelgard nods, “Ingrid kept my old things,” she mentions, swirling a small spoon in her tea cup. “I’m beginning to teach the children how to reach so I thought I could give them my old books. I have things written in the margins but I think they won’t mind.” She rests a hand on her chin. “But no, I’m not planning anything for Dimitri’s birthday.” She sets her jaw, stubbornly. Sylvain and Dorothea share a look. Dorothea tried to keep them apart as best as she could but after the crest removal surgery, it was hard to deny that they still cared about each other.

“I thought you two were doing better,” Dorothea hums, sipping her tea. “You told Alexandria and Edward about him, after all.” Dorothea mentions delicately. Sylvain thought Edelgard would go to her grave before she told the twins about him. She was stubborn to a fault.

Edelgard glares at her and in response Dorothea raises a delicate eyebrow. “You know I care about you, Edie but he is your children’s father.” Alexandria has already gotten quite attached to him, connected at the hip. Edward is still wary of him but seems to be warming up to him very slowly.

Edelgard sighs, wrapping her arms around herself. “He said that he still loves me,” she says in a quiet voice.

“Is that it?” Sylvain answers, watching her. He doesn’t mean to say it so flippantly, but it was pretty clear. Mercedes made it very clear that their relationship was not physical, it was out of convenience. There was no love involved between the two of them. They still cared about each other but it could never reach the depths of the love Dimitri had for Edelgard.

“Yes. That’s it.” Edelgard snaps, her eyes set in a hard line. Somehow, she wraps her arms around her even more, curling into herself.

“El-” Sylvain sighs, running a hand through his hair. “He is always going to love you,” he says gently. “I don’t think Dimitri is Dimitri if he doesn’t love you.” He places a hand on her shoulder, she doesn’t shrug it off but she stills underneath his touch. If there’s one thing Sylvain can’t forgive TWSiTD for, it’s probably making her sensitive to touch, amongst everything else.

“He can’t love me though,” Edelgard whispers, her face covered by her arms. “He can’t rule Fodlan with me. How would anyone trust his judgement if he does that?” Sylvain and Dorothea share a look. Edelgard kept herself isolated from public opinion- she was the face of the Empire that escalated a war. But that means she doesn’t know how the people feel about her. 

Rhea already made it clear that she trusted her above all else and besides, news of how she slayed Nemesis has already spread across Fodlan. Edelgard is already being regarded as a hero against the machinations of the Seven that imprisoned her father. She did what she could with the cards that were given to her. 

"They'll see him as weak. People don't allow weak leaders to rule. I won't let them do that to him." Sylvain's eyes meet Dorothea's over the top of Edelgard's head. He swallows, he can only imagine that she's referring to her father and how he lost power with the Insurrection. Dimitri won't meet the same fate as him, not if they can help it.

Dorothea bumps shoulders with her. “Dimitri’s allowed to love you, Edie. But if you don’t love him back, that’s a different story and no one is saying that you have to love him back. But if you still love him, then you should let yourself love him.”

* * *

(18th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1186)

“So the Almyra trip,” Claude asks Hilda over breakfast. “Holst has already given his approval?” Claude has that sly smile on his face that Hilda doesn’t like. It’s the one he uses when he’s fishing for answers.

“Holst doesn’t tell me what I can and cannot do,” Hilda snaps, shoving a bite of toast into her mouth. “And besides, I haven’t said yes to it.” A foreign delegation usually takes months and months to prepare. She’s already asked Glenn for some tips, seeing as how he and his father usually handle Kingdom business when it comes to the Empire and the Alliance. Hilda doesn’t even want to think how long it would take to organize a trip to Almyra.

Claude tilts his head, questioningly. “And why not?” He takes a bite of the apple he was playing with. Hilda scowls, Claude knows why. Almyra is a hot button topic in the Alliance. Holst trusts her but even he was wary about the letter from King Tariq. The rest of the Alliance will not be pleased that she’s been exchanging letters with Almyra even though it has been a couple of years since they launched an attack on Fodlan’s Locket.

“You know why,” Hilda hisses stubbornly. Claude knows that the system is completely bureaucratic, it’s the reason why he avoided calling an Alliance meeting for so long, preferring to rely on the decision making of the Roundtable. They have the major nobles of the Alliance on their side but even Claude can’t give a stamp of approval on this meeting.

“Then don’t go as a representative of House Goneril, then.” Claude suggests lightly, taking another bite of his apple, crunching it against his teeth. “Go as a representative of Fodlan.” Hilda stares at him, not sure she’s hearing his words correctly.

“King Lambert agreed then?” She asks quickly, her voice low. Fodlan is changing soon. It has served as three countries for centuries but with the fall of the Empire and no leader to take its place, that means the chessboard of Fodlan has shifted. Trying to split up the Empire between the Kingdom and the Alliance would most likely cause another war- which everyone is trying to avoid.

Dimitri wants to implement a voting system in Fodlan. They’ve already started to arrange a census in the Alliance and the Kingdom. Ferdinand wants universal education. Claude wants open borders. Edelgard wants the crest system dismantled. It’s been hard to juggle all of those reforms at once. But sooner or later, the borders between Fodlan will fall. There’s never been very much patriotism in the countries; it’s strongest in the Kingdom but both the Empire and the Alliance have never been loyal to each other.

“He agreed,” Claude nods slowly. “So rather than a representative of House Goneril, you’d be representing this United Fodlan,” at Hilda’s blank stare, Claude explains. “We’re working on the title.”

“And who would be the leader of this United Fodlan?” Hilda says quietly, nibbling on her toast. That will be the main issue, who will be in charge.

“Not sure,” Claude shrugs. “Maybe Dimitri, Ferdinand, and I will tag team it for this generation but…Edelgard introduced this new concept to us- the idea that our successor doesn’t have to be kin to us.” Hilda stares, glancing over at Edelgard trying to coax her children to eat their breakfast. They’ll be having a small celebration for them and Dimitri, it’s their birthday after all. She had heard Edelgard was adamant that they wouldn’t be succeeding Dimitri but that was before she told them Dimitri was their father. Was she still following through with that?

The idea of the succession not following blood lines isn’t new to Fodlan. Adopted children were common after all and after Godfrey died, a lot of people in the Alliance thought that Holst would inherit after Claude’s grandfather. But Fodlan relies heavily on Crests, whether good or bad. She’s attended Edelgard’s lectures before and she has a good point. Her own mother died in childbirth after trying to birth another kid. Her sister died only a week after her mother.

“How would it operate?” Hilda questions, to which Claude shrugs. “You don’t know yet?” She asks, aghast.

“A lot of moving pieces Hilda,” Claude explains. “King Lambert already has some ideas in regards to the reforms we plan on implementing but he says we have to go slow. Nobles don’t like it when you force change on them.” King Lambert would know best about that.

“He seems like a good man, King Lambert.” Hilda says hesitantly. She was curious about the man who raised Dimitri. Dimitri’s hot temper had no rival, but King Lambert had to be someone comfortable hiding a foreign leader’s daughter right in his own court.

“He loves Alexandria and Edward,” Claude snorts, “Spend every second he can with them.” King Lambert is eating breakfast with Edelgard and her children as well. He watches every smile and laugh shared between Alexandria and Edward. He does seem to love them a lot. Hilda likes kids, but they’re not for her. It’s fine, she’ll spend every second spoiling Lorenz and Leonie’s if they choose to have any. She isn’t sure how Marianne feels about them- she should probably ask.

Hilda shakes her head. “I’ll have to think about it Claude,” Hilda says in a hushed voice. “Besides who would go with me?”

“Well….” Claude hedges with a huge grin. “I’ve already written to King Tariq accepting his offer. We’ll need a delegation by next month, so choose wisely.” Hilda freezes as Claude hurries away with his apple, hiding from her wrath. She’s going to kill Claude.

* * *

(20th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1186)

It’s a small affair for Dimitri’s birthday. He didn’t want a huge one since people were still recovering from war’s end and he also shared his birthday with the twins and didn’t want to overwhelm them. Well, Alexandria would have taken it well but Edward is still very shy. No circus for them this year.

Ingrid sips a glass mulled wine as the small party continues. She’s happy and content. Glenn’s next to her, holding her hand as they watch their friends celebrate. Soon enough, everyone will have to return to their homes, including herself and Glenn.

Her father has already written to her, announcing his decision. By this time next year, she will be the next Countess of Galatea. It’s a heavy burden on her shoulders but Glenn has already promised that if Dimitri ever needs a knight, she can serve him without any guilt. After all, Glenn has already made plans for retirement as a man in his early thirties.

Glenn pecks her on cheek, grinning broadly. The months after the war ended have been chaotic. With the reveal of TWSiTD, the crest removal for Edelgard and Lysithea, Lady Rhea’s Death, capping it off with Nemesis’s revival, it’s nice to have a simple evening to celebrate a friend’s birthday.

Edelgard gave her presents to the children earlier today, her copy of  _ Loog and the Maiden of the Wind _ that Ingrid gave to her all those years ago. Ingrid kept it with her, thinking that she was dead- she gave it back to her within weeks when Enbarr fell. They both cried, it was awful. There were notes in the margin that Edelgard scrawled when reading through it. The twins were overjoyed with it- Edelgard will start teaching them how to read and write soon.

Mercedes and Annette baked a large cake for everyone as there is singing and dancing to go around the room. Edelgard dances with both of her children, her silver hair floating softly in the candlelight. Dimitri can’t take his eyes off her. Both Sylvain and Felix are sure that something happened between the two of them and even Ingrid can’t deny it.

Dimitri is sitting with his father and Lord Rodrigue, enjoying the festivities. Even King Lambert has a small smile for the party. After all, it’s the first time in five years that they can all relax together. They’ve slowly and systematically destroyed the bases that they could find in Fodlan. If there are more out there, they will find them and they will destroy them.

“Mama!” Alexandria cries out, pleading. “Dance with Papa!” Edelgard stills, over a bite of her slice of cake and so does Dimitri, in the middle of speaking with his father. They glance at each other, their eyes meeting in the middle of the dining hall with the tables pushed apart.

Ingrid can’t hear her but she sees Edelgard shaking her head no, murmuring softly to Alexandria. Glenn watches them both carefully; he’s of the opinion that they should shove them both into a broom closet and let them figure out their issues. Ingrid told him that Edelgard would kill them and Dimitri would break down the door with ease.

She sees Edward speak, tugging at his mother’s sleeve, saying something in her ear. Edelgard pauses, listening to her son. She sighs, pressing a kiss to each of their forehead.

She stands up, lifting her skirts. She walks over to Dimitri, holding her hand out. Ingrid can’t read her lips from here but she can imagine Edelgard inviting Dimitri to dance with her. Dimitri takes her hand, leading her to the ballroom floor.

Her hand squeezes Glenn’s, the last time Edelgard and Dimitri had danced was at the Winter Ball when they were at the Officer’s Academy. He still towers over her and looks as awkward as he did all those years ago. Alexandria looks enchanted at the sight, watching them slowly drift around the ballroom floor. Edward watches them warily, his chin resting on his palm. Dimitri has his large hand on the small of her back while Edelgard raises hers to reach Dimitri’s tall shoulder.

She can see Dimitri murmuring something to her, and Edelgard’s face turns to stone. She looks away from his eyes. Maybe Glenn’s idea isn’t such a bad idea after all.

The song ends, Edelgard pulls away, returning to Edward and Alexandria. Dimitri stands on the ballroom floor only for a second, looking forlorn as he returns to his father’s side. King Lambert pats him on the shoulder, supportively.

Glenn squeezes hers and they share a small smile. They’ve already started trying for children, but Ingrid hasn’t missed her monthly course yet. When she misses it, she’ll be examined by a healer.

The night continues and the party goes on. Edelgard sends her children to bed, returning at Dorothea’s insistence. The food is cleaned up and they sit together in small groups, drinking. King Lambert and Lord Rodrigue retire as well, claiming to be too old to stay awake. Somehow the talk turns to pregnancy, with Leonie asking Edelgard about it, having been the only one in their peer group to be pregnant.

Edelgard swishes a small glass of rose wine, sipping at it. She frowns, “Twins were always in the bloodline,” she mentions. “My mother and her brother, Lord Arundel, were twins, and I had a pair of older siblings who were twins as well. So I suppose it wasn’t too much of a surprise.”

“They were?” Dimitri asks curiously, watching her. She nods, taking another sip of her wine. Her cheeks are a high pink.

“Do you think it would have felt different, if you were having a single pregnancy?” Lysithea asks curiously, her hand entwined with Cyril’s. “I have to imagine having two children in one’s stomach is different than having one.”

Edelgard frowns and shrugs. “Not exactly sure about that, but I have to agree. I was already big enough as it was. I probably would have been smaller if there had only been one of them. But I can’t imagine having only one of them, though.”

“By the middle of her third trimester, Lady Edelgard could barely see her feet,” Hubert mentions, sitting close with Ferdinand. He ignores Edelgard’s outraged shush and smiles, it almost looks intimidating in the dark. “She was very upset, it was quite adorable.” Ingrid chalks it up to him being drunk, having sipped on beer the entire evening.

“Anyways,” Edelgard declares loudly. She’s definitely drunk, if not tipsy as well. She stares at Ingrid and Glenn flatly. “I’m a little upset that I wasn’t there for your wedding, considering how much planning we did for it.” Ingrid’s hand freezes around her glass of white wine.

“Planning?” Glenn asks, staring at Ingrid. She flushes pink, taking a sip of her wine. When they started wedding planning, Ingrid had given very little input into the ceremony. She didn’t want to- it felt like there was a missing piece and it was during a war. It felt weird trying to be extravagant with it. “You didn’t mention any plans.”

“There weren't that many plans,” Ingrid says and Edelgard starts nodding vehemently. “There were some things that I wanted but they weren’t important.”

“Did you at least do the song?” Edelgard asks, her chin in her hand. She watches them carefully. Ingrid looks down. “Ingrid….”

“What song?” Glenn says, looking at them both. There wasn’t very much dancing at her wedding either, which was fine. It was war time, any money spent on their wedding should have been spent on the war.

“It was a stupid song,” Ingrid protests, “I didn’t want it in the celebrations, anyways.” She tries to pull her hand away from Glenn, but his grip tightens around hers. He looks at her expectantly.

Edelgard stills, realizing that Ingrid didn’t talk about the wedding of her dreams with Glenn. She looks down, slightly guilty.

“Ingrid…” Glenn nudges her with his knee. “You can tell me.”

“It was the song that Loog sang to the Maiden of the Wind, near the end of the book, A Thousand Years.” Ingrid explains, she and El had spoken for days about that song, even made their own slow dance for it. El was going to sing it at their wedding while she and Glenn danced to it. “It was stupid.”

Glenn shakes his head. “It’s not stupid,” he murmurs, squeezing her hand comfortingly. He looks around at the dimly lit room. “Do you want to dance to it? Right now?” He looks into her eyes. He looks at Edelgard, “Do you remember the lyrics?”

Edelgard watches them both carefully and nods. Edelgard clears her throat, “It’s a duet though,” she mentions, glancing at Dorothea. “Do you know the song?” She asks hopefully. Dorothea shakes her head, watching the pair of them.

“I do.” Dimitri says quietly, looking at them both. “I won’t be as good as a singer but I know the song.”

* * *

(26th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1186)

“So why are you going?” Mercedes asks Sylvain, running her hands through his hair. They’re in bed together, enjoying a quiet night. The festival this year was much more subdued by Seteth tells them that next April, they’re hoping to have students returned to Garreg Mach. It will not serve as the Officer’s Academy as it once did but more as an education center to help spread knowledge across Fodlan as teachers.

Hilda asked him to come to Almyra with them, which includes Marianne, herself, Claude, Dimitri and Edelgard. The children will stay behind with King Lambert and Lord Rodrigue. Edelgard still hasn’t broken the news to them yet.

Hilda wanted Marianne there with her. Claude was going because he wrote to them without Hilda’s knowledge. But they needed representatives from the Empire and the Kingdom. Edelgard is going to represent the Empire, none of the Black Eagles wished to go- most of them going elsewhere once the year ended. King Lambert will take over reform talks with Lorenz and Ferdinand while Dimitri leaves for Almyra. It’s important to have him there as well.

“Not sure,” Sylvain admits, pulling Mercedes on top of him, with her resting on his broad chest. This…is new between them. It’s complicated to say the least. Annette doesn’t know and Mercedes isn’t sure how to tell her. Poor Annette isn’t very comfortable with the idea of intimacy. Poor Felix. 

Even after she broke her engagement with Dimitri, the Blue Lions still welcomed her into the fold. She still cooked with Ashe and Dedue on a weekly basis. “Must be my charming good looks,” he grins and Mercedes smiles fondly. “I haven’t said yes or no yet, they’ll be leaving within two weeks though. I’ll have to make it quick.”

She rests her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. She traces circles on his skin, her fingers running into a scar every so often. “Do you want to go?” She asks quietly.

“Want to? No,” Sylvain scoffs. “But I think I should go.” He rests a hand on the small of her back. “It might give me good pointers on broaching peace with Sreng.” She lifts her head to stare at him. As Dimitri’s fiancee for three years, she had to familiarize herself with the political climate of Faerghus, having been unfamiliar with it. Sreng was a point of concern for Sylvain’s house for decades. Peace would be a sore subject, especially with his father.

“Is that what you want?” Mercedes says questioningly. She’s never heard him bring it up but while Sylvain can talk a lot sometimes, he has his serious moments. This is one of them.

“Eventually,” Sylvain answers, rubbing her back. “Peace is a nice thought. Never having to worry about them in the north is an even nicer thought.” More than a decade ago, at the request of Sylvain’s father, King Lambert led an effort to subdue Southern Sreng and incorporate into Gautier territory. If Sylvain wants peace, he’ll most likely have to offer Southern Sreng back, which is risky, given the political climate. “It might take years for that to happen,” he mentions offhandedly. “But it’s a nice thought.”

“So you’re going to Almyra then,” Mercedes concludes, putting her head back on his bare chest.

Sylvain nods, his chin brushing against the top of her head. “Yeah, I guess I’m going to Alymra then.”

* * *

(30th Day of Ethereal Moon, 1186)

“So you’re leaving us again?” Edward asks when Edelgard explains the Almyra trip again. He leans on his mother, resting his chin to stare at Dimitri. He knows that his son had a part to play on the reason why Edelgard danced with him on his birthday, but he still doesn’t trust him very much. “Is Dimitri going with you?” He asks, glancing at his mother. Dimitri barely suppresses a wince, Alexandria has effusively calling him ‘Papa’ while Edward refers to him by his first name. A bit galling, he supposes, but he doesn’t want to force Edward into anything.

Edelgard nods, “We’re going to a foreign country,” she explains, combing Alexandria’s hair. After they discuss Edelgard’s family, Alexandria has been much more accepting of having a different hairstyle than her mother, favoring two twin plaits. “Miss Hilda is making history,” she mentions. “We need to be there to support her.”

Alexandria looks up at her mother as she sits in her lap. “Then who is watching us?” She asks curiously. “Will it be Uncle Hubert?” She asks curiously. “Miss Fleche is busy with her brother, Mister Randolph.” General Bergliez, or Randolph, had been reunited with his sister earlier this month. They seemed very close with each other, barely leaving each other’s side.

Edelgard ties up her last plait, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Lord Rodrigue and King Lambert will, actually.” Alexandria brightens and Edward cracks a smile which again, galling. He’s warmed much quicker to Dimitri’s father than he ever has to him. “They’re looking forward to spending a lot of time with you while we’re gone.” She smiles at their excitement.

“And how long will you be gone for?” Edward asks curiously, looking at his mother. Edelgard hesitates, it’s going to take a few days just to even reach Fodlan’s Locket. King Tariq has already offered a guide to lead them to the capital, Isfahan. It might be winter in Almyra as well but the desert is unforgiving, he explained.

“It’s going to be a long time,” Edelgard explains quietly. “More than a month perhaps.” They will leave early next month and spend almost three weeks at the capital. Edelgard hesitated on being separated from her children for so long and Dimitri shared her hesitation. But Hilda wanted them there as did Claude. They could take them but they were worried how they would do. They would be busy in Almyra and while they believed King Tariq was sincere in his offer of peace, it did not mean that they would trust the safety of Alexandria and Edward while there.

Alexandria and Edward look at each other, holding hands. “Okay,” Edward says quietly. “We’ll miss you, mama.” And then he glances at Dimitri. “We’ll miss you too.” Dimitri will take what he can get.

“Bring back gifts, okay,” Alexandria says, tearing up slightly. Dimitri feels his heart wrench at the sight and Edelgard squeezes their daughter tightly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Of course.” Edelgard murmurs, hugging them both.

Afterwards, when they leave, Edelgard says to Dimitri. “That’ll be the longest I’ve ever been separated from them,” she says with a firm frown. She wrings her hands, admitting, “I’m not ready for this.”

Dimitri blinks, he isn’t either but he can’t imagine Edelgard being away from her children for so long. “Neither can I but when were you apart from them?” He asks curiously.

Edelgard sighs, fisting her hands in her dress. “Right after they were born,” she states quietly. “I only held them for a second before they were taken from me.” A flash of anger comes over her face before a look of resignation settles in. “The experimentation began right after that,” Edelgard tells him. “Almost a year had passed before I saw them again. Hubert made sure that they were cared for,” she shakes her head. “But I’m never letting that happen again.”


	34. Part IV Chapter VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note there is an explicit sex scene at the end of the chapter.

* * *

(5th Day of Guardian Moon, 1187)

“So this is Fodlan’s Locket?” Edelgard muses as they reach the gates of the intimidating fortress. Hilda nods, it’s not the seat of Goneril but it might as well be considering how much time Holst spends here. Holst was stationed at Fodlan’s Locket a couple of years after he graduated from the Officer’s Academy, as her father was still alive to handle Alliance politics. 

She’ll take over his duties with the Roundtable. Holst says she’s better at politics, anyway. She thinks it’s his way of shirking out of his half of the duties. She doesn’t mind, sneaking a glance at Marianne, she gets to see her friends more often.

They left Garreg Mach to the sounds of Edelgard’s crying children almost half a week ago. Both Dimitri and Edelgard looked like they wanted to run back and hug them. They’re doing her a big favor by coming and she owes them, truly.

Hilda nods, “The fundamental structure remains unchanged from the original formation done in 1101. But many renovations have taken place, mainly reinforcing the walls and the ballistas, all funded by the Leicester Alliance.” She parrots. The others stare at her, surprised. “What?” She says affronted. “I pay attention sometimes.”

A pink-haired figure runs at her and lifts her. “Hilda!” Holst cries out, “You’re here!” He swings her around in the air, her feet brushing against the floor. Holst is nowhere near as tall as Dimitri is as he is around Claude’s height. It also means that Holst still towers over her. He presses his cheek next to her, squeezing her tightly.

“Holst!” Hilda laughs, his hands squeezing her by the waist. “Put me down!” He swings her around one more time before putting her down, giving her one last squeeze. She wraps her arms around Holst tightly. He has a new battle scar on his face, most likely gifted to him by Nemesis. Hard to imagine that two months ago, Nemesis was running around Goneril and no one knew about it. 

“General,” Claude grins once Holst turns to them. Edelgard has an amused look on her face as she eyes Holst warily. This would be her first time meeting her brother as well as Dimitri’s. Claude clasps his hand warmly, “It’s good to see you.”

“Duke Riegan,” Holst responds with another grin. “Lady Marianne,” he nods towards her. “Prince Dimitri. Miss Edelgard,” he bows towards them. Dimitri and Edelgard say their greetings back.

“I heard that you were the one who defeated Nemesis.” He says to Edelgard, who nods stiffly. Word has already spread around Fodlan quickly of her deeds. She was the Emperor favored by Lady Rhea and had conquered the King of Liberation. They were calling her Wilhelm, reborn. “Nice work,” he commends. “I wish I was the one to do it so he would not have been able to kill the Archbishop but alas, he got the jump on me. I wasn’t expecting him.”

“Who was?” Edelgard notes dryly. She bows, “It’s an honor to meet you, General Holst. Thank you for hosting us.” They’ll stay the night at Fodlan’s Locket before they leave for Almyra, braving the desert beyond Fodlan’s Throat. Hilda still can’t believe they’re doing this.

“Who would believe that my little sister would write to the Almyran King?” Holst says fondly as he leads them through the gate. “My Hilda,” he says proudly. Hilda groans and elbows him to keep quiet. “Do you want me to take your things?” He asks Edelgard politely. 

Marianne and Hilda have Dorte holding their things. Edelgard hesitates, at a loss for words. She carried them up the mountain without complaint, but Holst was an unknown entity to her. He wouldn’t be offended if Edelgard refused him, but she didn’t know that.

“That’s alright,” Dimitri steps in smoothly, with more grace than Hilda would have ever expected from him. “Please, lead us to our quarters.” Her brother nods, leading them across the way. Hilda notices Edelgard smiling at Dimitri gratefully.

Fodlan’s Locket is not a castle, it is a military fort built in the vein of Fort Merceus. The high walls stop any infantry attack led by the Almyrans, and there are ballistas littered all across the towers to stop the highflying Almyrans and their Wyverns. The rooms they stay in are barracks rather than chambers. But it will do for tonight, for tomorrow, they leave for the unknown into Almyra.

* * *

(8th Day of Guardian Moon, 1187)

It’s been three days since they left Fodlan’s Locket and despite being winter in Almyra, when the sun has risen, it is still very warm and windy. They’ve all dressed properly for it, however, wearing long sleeve light clothing that covers every inch of their skin. 

Poor Edelgard’s skin burns when left uncovered. Following King Tariq’s instructions, they travel to a border town near a small oasis and a guide is waiting there. He stares at Claude suspiciously, but he speaks little Fodlan. He bought them things to cover their heads from the bright Almyran sun, keffiyeh, headscarves, and veils for the faces.

Thankfully, Cyril gave Hilda lessons in speaking basic Almyran before they left. She struggles through it but the guide, either paid well or he doesn’t care, nods. It would have been nice for Cyril to come with them, but he swore that he would never step foot in Almyra again and they didn’t want to force him. So Hilda struggles along, speaking in broken and stilted Almyran.

The guide shows them camels to ride as Dorte had to be left behind at Fodlan’s Locket, much to his distress. Claude brought Ayla, though, and she seems to be thriving in this weather. They camp underneath the stars, cuddling together for warmth when it goes below freezing. It’s a different kind of cold than Faerghus, Sylvain muses. Despite bundling at night, the cold air feels like it travels through your bones, locking them together in the chill.

Edelgard looks awful, having never gotten used to the winters in Faerghus. Dimitri slings his fur coat over her and she smiles at him, grateful. He still isn’t sure if she talked to him yet.

The guide gets more alert when they pass more hills, which means he probably knows something that the others don’t. He gestures and saying words that Sylvain doesn’t quite understand, but Hilda nods intently. “Guys,” she says quietly. “I think we’re close.” She looks at the guide, furrowing her brow. “Ta-Tabriz?” She mouths out and the guide nods excitedly.

“Oh,” Edelgard says, standing at the front on top of a great hill. Sylvain catches up to her and is greeted by the sight of an immense city surrounded by high walls. “Is this it?” Edelgard asks, turning to Hilda.

Hilda asks the guide in Almyran, who nods. She looks to the others, confirming. “Yeah, this is it.” She stands on top of the hill with the rest of them, sweating in the high sun.

The guide leads them down the hill toward the immense gates. Compared to the major cities in Fodlan, it is along with the size of Derdriu or Fhirdiad. Nothing has compared to Enbarr just quite yet. 

When they gain entrance into the city, it’s clear that is a bustling metropolis, filled with merchants and civilians. Some of them stare at their pale skin as the guide leads them through the city without a care. The only one who doesn’t look as out of place is Claude, whose dark skin is still lighter than most Almyrans.

They cross a bridge that splits a third of the city with a long canal that connects both walls that leads to even more walls. It must be the palace of Tabriz. It has a major building that is tall with long wings spanning the width of the walls.

The guide pounds on the gate, shouting up to the guards who man the walls in Almyran. The heavy gates eventually open, allowing them into the courtyard of the palace. It’s not what Sylvain would call ornate or extravagant. Tapestries line the walls as a running fountain sits in the center of the courtyard. A military escort joins them at the side and they all stiffen under their gaze. They left their Heroes Relics at the monastery, all of them. Sylvain hopes they won’t regret it.

The head guard, Sylvain assumes he’s the head guard judging by his headgear, speaks to their guide who in turn speaks with Hilda. Hilda scrunches up her face in thought, translating the words into her head. “I think he’s taking us to the King.” She mutters, thinking.

A figure to the side moves and catches Edelgard’s eye. She frowns, tugging at Sylvain’s sleeve. “Do you recognize him?” She points him out. It’s Nardel. Holy shit. Nardel left for Derdriu once they had secured Enbarr. Why the hell was he in Almyra. Did Claude know? The man is definitely hiding from them, edging around a stone pillar. Unfortunately, he’s also a mountain of a man, so that pillar doesn’t help him very much.

Marianne spots him, and she grabs Hilda’s hand as she’s speaking with the guide. Hilda turns, and she catches Nardel’s gaze, looking away awkwardly. Hilda shrieks, her scream echoing across the courtyard. Nardel slumps, coming out of hiding.

Edelgard tilts her head curiously, thinking quickly. She turns to Claude, muttering, “Suddenly you make so much more sense.” 

Sylvain doesn’t know Nardel very well. Despite being Claude’s retainer, he hung around Judith of Daphnel mostly during the war. When Hilda hears Edelgard’s remark to Claude, she launches herself at him, furious.

Sylvain is startled but catches her in mid-air, his arms around her waist. “Oh no,” he says, lifting her off the ground. Her legs dangle and kick out as she struggles. “Let’s not attack our friends,” he chides, squeezing her tightly.

“I’m going to kill him!” Hilda snarls, still struggling in his arms. She catches him in the face with her arm and he grimaces. It’s not the worse pain he’s ever felt. It’s also not the first time he had an upset girl in his arms, but it is a first when the girl isn’t upset at him. Her foot bangs against his knee and he flinches, but he doesn’t let her go. Claude winces at her fury, and Sylvain keeps her dangling in the air. Hilda’s very stubborn, she’s not giving up.

“Surely you saw this coming,” Edelgard remarks to Claude dryly. She has one brow raised in disbelief. “You had to see this coming. She shakes her head as Hilda writhes in his arms.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Dimitri says quietly, hurt. Marianne nods, they had known Claude for over six years and he never gave a hint or a clue. Everyone knew that his origins as Duke Riegan’s heir were a mystery, but no one expected this.

Claude sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you, how to explain all of this,” he gestures to the large courtyard. “How do you explain a secret this big?”

“Everything okay, kid?” Nardel walks over sheepishly. “I didn’t realize you’d be here so soon,” he remarks guiltily. He looks at Hilda in Sylvain’s arms. For being a delicate maiden, Hilda’s pretty heavy. It certainly explains why she can hit so hard. She’s stopped struggling, at the very least.

“I’m not going to hurt him, Sylvain,” Hilda says, prying at his forearms locked around her waist. “I’m just mad at him.” Sylvain glances at Claude expectantly. Hilda’s a great liar. If she tries to throw herself at Claude again, Sylvain isn’t sure he’ll be able to react in time. “No, seriously, Sylvain. I’m madder at the fact he made me learn Almyran than admitting he knows the damn language!” Sylvain reluctantly puts her back on the floor.

She marches straight up to Claude, looking him in the eye. “You lie to me again Claude, I’ll dye your clothes pink. All of them.” She emphasizes threateningly.

Claude snorts, “As if I couldn’t pull pink off.”

Hilda’s lips turn into a snarl. “Watch me.”

* * *

(8th Day of Guardian Moon, 1187)

Once Claude and Hilda have stopped staring each other down, Claude turns to Nader shaking his head. “Where is my father?” He asks him stiffly. Nader stares at him oddly.

“He’s in the throne room, waiting for you with the Queen.” Claude nods understandingly, he pulls back his shoulders. It’s been years since he last saw his mother and father. He left them when he was 16 for Fodlan and hadn’t seen them since. It’s been over 7 years, he hasn’t seen them for a third of his life.

Edelgard glances at him and bumps hips with him. “You okay?” She asks as Hilda stews over this newfound information. He wanted to tell her he did. But how could explain keeping a secret from her? She was his closest confidant. She knew about him and Edelgard because Edelgard left a mark on his neck. And this wasn’t just a secret, it was The Secret. He doesn’t relish telling the others about his family.

“Not, but we’re doing this, anyway.” Claude shakes his head, grinning. “Oh, by the way, his name isn’t Nardel, it’s Nader,” he informs the others quickly. “He’s a general with my father’s men and the one who taught me to fight.” Nader nods quickly but stares at Edelgard strangely.

“Wait a minute,” Nader curses in Almyran. “You’re….”

Edelgard tilts her head at him, looking him over. Edelgard recognized him, but Nader was never introduced to her. “You’re from Gronder!” Nader shouts, looking over her. “You-”

“Stopped you from killing a friend? Yes.” Edelgard admits coolly. Claude hadn’t considered their encounter. She eyes him with a smile. Sylvain takes a step back as she examines Nader, looking him up and down. Dimitri and Claude both look at her warily. Claude isn’t sure about that look on her face, but it’s not one he ever wants to be directed at him. “Do you want a rematch?” She quips, smiling widely.

Nader grunts, looking in the direction of the throne room. Tabriz is one of the major cities of Almyra, it’s not quite the capital, but it’s up there in importance. He was not surprised that this is where his father chose to meet them.

Claude claps his hands. “We should get going, shall we?” Nader dismisses the guide, leading them towards the throne room. It’s been years since he’s been here, but it hasn’t changed very much. The tapestries are different, but that’s not unsurprising.

This meeting is much more low key than future meetings will ever be. His father most likely hasn’t told the other Almyran shahs that he’s meeting with Hilda. Like him, his father will have to deal with the complaints of those under his leadership.

Nader leads them to the throne room as they stand in front of its massive doors. He takes a deep breath in and out. Hilda watches him, “You’re actually nervous about this, aren’t you?” She remarks softly. Claude spares a small smile for her. He was nervous. It’s been over seven years. Will his parents be impressed with him? He set out for Fodlan to conquer it, and he did in a way. But it wasn’t how he was expecting for it to all go down.

“You good, kid?” Nader asks him in Almyran as the others watch him carefully. Because of the short notice, they weren’t able to teach them at all. Cyril could only do so much, and Claude certainly wasn’t revealing his ability to speak Almyra fluently. That would have been a huge giveaway.

Claude nods and Nader pushes the heavy doors open. He sees his mother and father sitting on the throne at the end of the room, his father wearing his crown and his mother her coronet. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees them. He had missed them, dearly. He didn’t realize how much until he saw them.

They all bow when they reach the throne out of respect. “My son,” his mother greets him in Fodlanese. She had taught his father how to speak Fodlan early in their marriage. Despite the issues of raising a half-Almyran as the heir, his parents strove to at least teach him a little about his mother’s past. Teaching him the language was one of them.

“Bâbâ, mâmân. It’s good to see you.”

* * *

(8th Day of Guardian Moon, 1187)

“King Tariq, it’s an honor to meet you, finally.” Hilda greets calmly, standing firm. Marianne watches her lover carefully. She was so angry at Claude, but Marianne understood. Hilda spent a lot of time learning Almyran, worrying long nights over her letters, and going over dozens of drafts of them. A lot of that headache could have been spared if Claude had just told her.

“It is an honor to meet you as well, Miss Goneril,” King Tariq responds in accented Fodlanese. “My son speaks of you fondly. It is nice to put a face to his companions.” Hilda sneaks a glance at Claude, who is stubbornly avoiding her stare. “He writes to us monthly,” he informs them calmly. “You all have been busy in Fodlan. We all thought that Khalid would be the one to start talks. Imagine our surprise when it was a Goneril who wrote to us.”

“Khalid?” Hilda tilts her head questioningly, Marianne doesn’t know that name.

“Claude,” Queen Tiana answers, she looks a lot like Claude, he has her bright green eyes and mischievous smile. “Claude is his Fodlan name. but here we refer to him as Khalid.” She looks Hilda up and down appraisingly. “You look very much like a Goneril,” she notes.

“Bâbâ, mâmân. These are my friends,” Claude steps forward nervously. It’s the first time Marianne has ever seen him nervous. “That is Prince Dimitri of Faerghus, Sylvain of House Gautier, Marianne of House Edmund, and Edelgard of House Hresvelg.”

Tiana looks at Marianne curiously, “So the old Margrave Edmund married?” She says with a laugh, eyeing Marianne. “You don’t look like him, but it has been over two decades since I last laid eyes on him.”

“I was adopted,” Marianne says, uncharacteristically vocal. “He is a distant relative of mine.” Both King Tariq and Queen Tiana look at her and she shies away.

“I see,” Queen Tiana smiles briefly, she looks even more like Claude than ever. “It must have been a long day for you all,” she says warmly. “We should get you situated into your quarters and then we can begin talks.”

“I look forward to speaking with you, Miss Goneril,” King Tariq says sternly. “But we will begin talks when you are more refreshed. My son,” he calls out to Claude. “Please stay behind,” he holds Queens Tiana’s hand. “We want to see you.”

They are led to their quarters, Claude will stay in a different part of the palace as a prince of the Royal Family, the five of them will stay together. General Nader leads them over to the rooms. “Don’t give the kid too hard of a time,” General Nader asks. “He wanted to tell you, he did, but it was hard for him.”

“Was it?” Hilda snorts derisively. She’s not as angry as she was at Claude, but the storm isn’t over for him yet.

General Nader pauses and then shakes his head. “No, it really wasn’t.” He says with a laugh. “There are more clothes in the quarters if you need it. Let me or the kid know when you want to explore the palace. People here are friendly, but they’re going to stare if they see you.” They certainly were stared at that in the city. They stood out, their pale skin a stark contrast to the warm skin of the Almyrans.

He pushes the doors open, leading them to a large open room. “There will be smaller rooms on either side. The baths are down the middle,” he explains. It should have been obvious, now that Marianne thinks about it. Nader was different- she had thought him from one of the smaller villages that hid in the shadows of Fodlan’s Throat. “Send a servant if you need anything, alright?” He waves goodbye, leaving them alone in the room.

“Ugh, I’m exhausted,” Hilda complains, stretching her back. Their things were sitting nicely in a pile in the center of the room. She looks at the hallway leading to the beds longingly.

“You should clean up first,” Edelgard chides her softly, unwrapping her headscarf. “Three days of hard travel means that we’re covered in dirt, sweat, and sand. There’s no point in dirtying the beds now.”

Hilda pouts. “I know you’re right, Edie, but I’m so tired-” she stresses. She takes Marianne and Edelgard’s hand, “Come with me! Make sure I don’t drown in the baths!”

* * *

(9th Day of Guardian Moon, 1187)

“I’m surprised that you wish to open Fodlan’s Locket,” High King Tariq says quietly. “The Gonerils, they have a reputation in Almyra,” he informs Hilda calmly. Negotiations have only just started to begin and Hilda, never one to dillydally, is blunt about her goals.

“There was an Almyran servant at the monastery,” Hilda explains sheepishly. It was embarrassing to think about it now, how she conflated all Almyrans into a single stereotype. It wasn’t fair, people were varied and multi-faceted. “He opened my eyes to a lot of things.” She was lucky Cyril didn’t toss her on her butt. She would have deserved it.

She shakes her head. “I think that if we can achieve peace between our two countries, we will be stronger for it,” Hilda says passionately. “We will no longer have to spend funds on military expeditions, meaning that we can use them for greater causes. Peace is possible, we just have to work on it.”

High King Tariq raises an eyebrow. He really does look like Claude or Khalid. He hasn’t said which one he wants them to use when addressing him. The dark skin and hair and the shape of his nose and mouth are all Claude. “He never mentioned you were an optimist.” He says dryly.

Hilda flushes. “We finished a war within six months,” she argues softly. “I like to think we are the generation that will achieve peace for Fodlan, completely.”

He nods understandingly. Claude isn’t here because while she loves Claude, the revelation changes things. She was hoping to have him by her side as she negotiated with the High King Tariq, but when they return to Fodlan and people learn about him, they will be angry and distrustful. She needs to do this by herself or it will never survive. “Khalid said that he did not explain our- political situation here,” he says delicately. “I am the padishah of Almyra, but there are many more shahs in Almyra who will be upset when they learn that you are here.”

Hilda tilts her head to the side. Claude did not explain this to her. It would have helped, though. “So you don’t have full control of Almyra?” She asks curiously.

“I do.” High King Tariq says severely, “But inheritance here is not the same as it is in Fodlan. Khalid is not guaranteed to succeed me.” His gaze softens. “I would have it no other way but his blood. People do not like him here for that. I know it to be true. If they can, the other shahs and their children will challenge Khalid for the title of padishah, and it is because they can.”

“Oh,” Hilda says quietly. She didn’t know that. Lorenz had always shunned Claude, but it seemed that he experienced very much the same here as well. He was an outsider in both worlds. “Well, what’s the best way we can support Claude?” She asks weakly.

“You wish to support him?” The High King asks surprised. It seems that he didn’t expect to hear that from her.

“Yeah, of course.” Hilda answers, “He’s an idiot sometimes, but he’s my friend. And that means I want to support him any way I can.” High King Tariq smiles genuinely and looks at her in a new light.

* * *

(12th Day of Guardian Moon, 1187)

It didn’t take Edelgard long to get bored with lounging in the palace. She wanted to explore Tabriz and everything around it. With her hair braided tightly, her headscarf covering her head, and her veil covering her face, Claude leads her around the marketplace, showing her the best Almyra offered.

Her pale skin makes her stand out and because it’s been a while since he’s returned home, the people here don’t know him like they would his father or the other shahs. There won’t be a ceremonious welcome for Claude, not this time because he’s not staying. There’s work to be done in Fodlan, and while he might not stay to see it finished, his father is still a healthy and strong man. He won’t be needed here for a while. But he does eventually have to return because the people won’t like a foreign padishah ruling over them.

The others are with them, only Marianne and Hilda staying behind. Hilda won’t tell him what she and his father are discussing. She can’t. Claude doesn’t want to imagine how he’s going to tell everyone in Fodlan. It’s not going to be pretty. Everything he does is going to be called into question. It’s why he had Hilda come not as a representative of the Alliance or of Goneril but a representative of the new government they were plotting up. He can only hope that his actions in the past five years will warrant him at least some clemency. He’s lucky Count Gloucester is dead. Hopefully, Lorenz will be a little more forgiving.

While he’s showing them around the market, they come across a book publisher and his printing press. This should be interesting for them. He hasn’t seen printing presses around Fodlan, or at least ones that are not as advanced as the ones they have here in Almyra. He waves them over, chatting to the book publisher with ease. He’s not actually a book publisher, the printing press can be used for that, but someone who can easily produce notices if requested.

Edelgard tilts her head as she stares at the printing press intently. “What is this?” She asks curiously, tugging on Claude’s sleeve. He can barely hear her through the veil, but he doesn’t want to spook the publisher either.

“It’s a printing press,” Claude explains easily. “They’re all over Almyra.” Edelgard purses her lips, staring at the machine. It surprised him that Fodlan didn’t have this kind of technology. Frankly speaking, there were a lot of things that Almyra had that Fodlan did not. He stays his tongue though, that’s not an argument he wants to have in public.

“How does it work? I’ve seen printing presses. They don’t look like this,” Edelgard argues, stepping up to the machine. She keeps her hands to herself but peers at the machine. The book publisher doesn’t have any work to do right now, but if anyone from Tabriz were to step up, he could easily start printing pages for them.

He asks the man to show her the metal blocks that help with the printing. “So this is a moveable printing press.” Claude explains, “But the letters are made of metal so it’s easier to move and the ink stays on a lot easier too. This way they can print a lot of pages fast.”

Edelgard muses over this new information, Sylvain steps up to nudge her on the sides. He and Dimitri have stayed behind for the majority of this exchange. “What are you thinking?”

Edelgard looks at him and smiles, “I’m thinking that if we can get one of these to Fodlan? Ferdinand’s dream of universal education and literacy becomes a lot easier.”

* * *

(16th Day of Guardian Moon, 1187)

Edelgard left early this morning, she’s spent a lot of time in the markets, seeing what the merchants have in store for the day. If Hilda can truly open up the borders, it means that Fodlan’s markets grow even stronger. Sylvain left with her, curious about what Tabriz offers. Dimitri was surprised that Sylvain came along, not that he was unwelcome, just surprised. But it seemed that even Sylvain had his own interests at heart.

Hilda has the day off from negotiations, so she and Marianne are exploring stables, home to both horses and wyverns. They spend most nights together, Edelgard has her own room as does Sylvain and Dimitri, as they are both far too old to share rooms together anymore. Claude comes over every night to talk with them; he’s started to teach Edelgard Almyran.

“I think they’re at the training room,” Claude tells him, leading him the way there. “Nader’s been grumbling about a rematch with her for days.” He smiles easily. Dimitri smiles back, Claude’s charm had always impressed him. How he was calm and confident about everything. Not like him as he was riddled with self-doubt and insecurity. He would make an excellent king of Almyra. Dimitri isn’t even sure if he should be king of Faerghus.

He hasn’t told anyone yet. But it’s hard to live up to his father, and he’s seen Edelgard, Ferdinand, and Claude all in action. He feels very underwhelming compared to them. They have visions and plans for Fodlan that he just cannot compare.

When Claude opens the door to the training room, they come upon a smiling Edelgard. He would say it’s a welcome sight, but this smile has her teeth bared as she spars against Nader viciously. She undercuts him with a tug of her axe under his knees. He falls to one knee but swings his axe towards her, pushing himself off the ground. She drops her axe, flipping over him with a flourish, planting a hand, and yanking his shoulder behind her. Nader drops with a thud, and Edelgard rolls to her feet with a smile.

Nader groans in pain. It doesn’t seem like this is the first time Edelgard’s gotten him on his back. “Why are you so fast?” He curses loudly. Edelgard turns with a smile, beaming with pride. Sylvain leans against a wall, watching them spar. He’s already covered in dirt and bruises as well.

“I usually wear heavier armor,” Edelgard shakes her head, pulling him up with a hand. “Perhaps that’s why?” Out of the three of them, she’s the least injured.

“You look like a cat that got into some cream,” Nader complains, brushing the dirt off his clothes. He laments, “I wasn’t expecting our rematch to go like this.”

Sylvain rises from the floor. “You get used to it,” Sylvain remarks. “She has the same look when she challenges Felix to a spar. It doesn’t end well.”

“Felix usually beats me though,” Edelgard snaps, tossing her long ponytail over her shoulder. “So I don’t think that counts.”

“You challenge him to a sword fight,” Sylvain argues back. “Of course it’s not going to go well for you.”

“You guys having fun?” Claude asks easily, strolling into the middle of the training room floor. “Defeat looks good on you, Nader the Undefeated. You sure you’re not getting old?” He grins cockily.

Nader narrows his eyes, “Watch it, kid. I can still school you on the battlefield any day.” He reaches for Claude, trying to grab him in a headlock. Claude darts away, quick on his feet. “Arrogant brat,” he snarls. “Don’t forget who trained you.”

“You trained Claude?” Dimitri asks curiously. He has heard from Ashe that Claude’s bow form was different, but he chalked it up to the differences of being trained in the Kingdom versus the Alliance.

Nader nods, “Favor to the Padishah, of course, and Queen Tiana. They wanted the best to train their son. But it seems that I still have to teach the brat what it means to respect his elders.” He chases after Claude in the distance.

“Charming,” Edelgard remarks, brushing some dirt off her shoulders. She appears to be relatively untouched, but Dimitri notices some dirt on her face.

“May I?” Dimitri asks, raising a hand towards her face. She stills but eventually nods. He cups her face, rubbing the smudge of dirt on her cheek with his thumb, tilting her chin up. She looks into his eyes and Dimitri  _ wants.  _ But she doesn’t. So the moment is over and he pulls away. He catches Sylvain’s eye over Edelgard’s head and looks away, slightly ashamed.

He can’t. Edelgard does not want him as he wants her. And Sylvain does not deserve to be forced into these kinds of situations.

“So, uh, you guys want to go get lunch?” Sylvain asks curiously, pretending as if the moment never occurred. Sylvain had always been good at that. But not even he can support him in his desires.

* * *

(18th Day of Guardian Moon, 1187)

Dimitri finds Edelgard sitting on the balcony, feeling the cool breeze blow through the wind. He makes a small noise to alert her and she turns to look at him. “Dimitri,” she says calmly, her gaze casting forward. She swings her legs as the stars begin to illuminate the skies.

“Edelgard. May I sit?” He asks, politely. They haven’t really talked since Fhirdiad. She danced with him and for a moment, he could imagine them together, being happy but that was a fleeting moment. 

It might be foolish for him to love her, even after all this time, but still he does and he won’t stop loving her. 

She nods and moves over, giving him more room to sit. Almyra is a beautiful country, it is very different from Faerghus but it is still very beautiful here. 

They sit in silence, feeling the cold air settle into the night. It’s a different kind of cold here. Claude said that it rarely snows here but it is still very cold. Dimitri’s wearing his fur cloak and he knows that under her clothing, Edelgard has layers upon layers to keep her warm. 

“I’m not sorry for what I said in Fhirdiad,” Edelgard murmurs, looking straight forward. “It’s not smart of you-to have feelings for someone like me.” Dimitri sits there, watching her. At this point, he doesn't care if it’s smart. It’s how he feels about her. 

Dimitri considers her words. “It is how I feel,” he answers somberly. “Nothing can change that.” 

Edelgard’s purple eyes flash towards him and she chews on her lip before she turns away. He thinks he hears her murmur something but he won't push her on what she said.

They sit there, silent and untouching until Sylvain finds them late in the night, alone with their thoughts.

* * *

(21st Day of Guardian Moon, 1187)

Hilda catches Claude just outside of the palace on the palace walls. His feet are dangling off the wall as he overlooks the city. She hasn’t been able to spend very much one-on-one time with him lately. She’s busy speaking with his father and he only comes over at night to see them. But a lot of his time is spent reconnecting with his parents.

“Hey,” Hilda greets, nudging his shoulder with her knee. She sits down next to him, leaning against his arm. “How are you doing?” She asks him quietly. There’s not a lot that she doesn’t know about Claude. The Almyra thing was the biggest one. But she knows him. She knows that he’s sleeping with Edelgard, which seems like the worst decision ever, even before all of this. 

He’s explained to her that it’s completely casual and Edelgard doesn’t seem to catch feelings all that easily. But there’s the third complicated component to their relationship- Dimitri. If he found out, he could easily crush Claude like what he did to his uncle, or so she heard.

She was mad at him, but she understands why he never came clean. The Leicester Alliance would have never accepted him; they already had a hard enough time all those years ago. This would have compounded the issue.

“I’m good,” Claude responds automatically. Hilda’s eyes flicker towards him. It took her a while to learn when he was lying. And he was lying to her right now. She elbows him in the side, a signal to stop lying to her. “Seriously, Hils, I’m good.” He reassures her. “Just thinking about the future.”

“What about it?” The plans that Claude and the others have for Fodlan are an open secret, especially amongst their friends. Somehow, Ferdinand’s the most radical out of the four of them. Eventually, the divisions between the three countries will disappear and they will have a United Fodlan. Not what everyone expected to result from the war, but it’s coming, eventually.

“It’s just nice to see my parents and to be here, I guess,” Claude says quietly, his knees kicking out against the wall. So here’s the thing about Claude, he pretends that he’s an extrovert like Raphael or Lorenz, but he’s really an introvert. He’s always thinking, and he never says what he’s thinking. Getting Claude to admit the truth is sometimes like pulling teeth, especially admitting the truth in public.

Hilda hums understandingly. It’s been in the back of her mind the entire trip but Claude hasn’t hinted at the answer so she hasn’t asked, but now she will. “Are you thinking about staying?” Hilda asks bluntly. She leans her elbow on her knee, making sure to get Claude’s full reaction. He’s not expecting this.

“No!” Claude exclaims, “Of course not.” His hands fist in his pants. “I’m seeing everything through.” He shakes his head.

“Good,” Hilda says slowly. “Because I would hate to see Lorenz’s reaction if you weren’t there for the wedding.” Claude cracks a smile at that. Never in a thousand years would they have guessed that Lorenz would propose to Leonie, especially not when they started at the Officer’s Academy together. They all knew that Lorenz held a torch for the spirited villager, but marriage? Never. “So what’s the issue?”

“Nothing,” Claude shakes his head. “I will have to return to Almyra eventually, but I don’t intend to do that for a while.” He says quietly. “I have things to accomplish in Fodlan.”

“Like the open border?” Claude looks at her, shocked. Hilda snorts, “You’re not as good as hiding things as you think you are, Khalid.” She emphasizes the K sound. “I might have been the one to bring it up but you’re the one who has definitely encouraged me to do this.” She leans against Claude. 

“I’ve already promised talks to continue between your father and me.” It will be strange, she’s been a Goneril her entire life, but she won’t be representing Goneril in these talks, not like before. This goes beyond Fodlan’s Locket. “Well, I hope you know that you can represent both sides on this issue, Claude.” She says quietly. “You’re Fodlan and Almyran.” Claude squeezes her hand gratefully as they enjoy sitting on the wall next to each other. Who knows when this will happen again?

* * *

(25th Day of Guardian Moon, 1187)

Dimitri isn’t sure how he happened upon them, but now that he sees them, he wishes he hadn’t. He only remembers the taste of the alcohol Claude gave them to try. He doesn’t need to be reminded that Edelgard does not want him. She sits in Claude’s lap, her bare back marred by the scars that TWSITD’s experiments left on her. It’s Claude who spots him as Edelgard’s head is buried in his shoulder, her voice keening quietly. Claude stills, his hands stopping in his ministrations. “Claude?” Edelgard asks softly, leaning away from him. “What’s wrong?”

Dimitri makes a strangled noise and backs away, the door closing loudly behind him. He knows. This was a private moment between them, and he should have never intruded. It’s late enough at night that everyone is sleeping. He wanted to talk to Edelgard about something. He just can’t remember now.

“Dimitri!” Claude hisses loudly, “Wait.” He grabs at Dimitri’s shoulder to make him stop. Edelgard waits by the doorway, watching them. She’s covered herself with Claude’s shirt, the hem of it covering her bare thighs.

“Don’t,” Dimitri warns him, pushing Claude’s hand off his shoulder. He’s trying his best not to be emotional because when he gets emotional, people get hurt. He doesn’t want to hurt either of them. “Claude, don’t.”

“Hear me out,” Claude says raggedly. He’s wearing pants, thank the goddess. He doesn’t need insult to injury. He glances back at Edelgard. “Do you want to come in?” He asks, Dimitri stares at him aghast. He can’t believe his ears. “Look, it’s just casual between me and her,” Claude explains hurriedly. “Nothing more, nothing less.” He takes a deep breath. “So, do you want to join us?”

Dimitri stares at him, mortified. How is Claude so comfortable? With everything? He looks at Edelgard, wide-eyed, and waiting for her reaction. “He’s telling the truth,” Edelgard murmurs as she steps forward, her hand clutching the sleeves. “There’s nothing special to it.” 

She doesn’t seem surprised that Claude’s invited a third partner into their bed. Have they done this with other people? She holds out her pale hand, looking him in the eyes. “You don’t have to say yes. But you can stay.”

Dimitri looks at them both wildly, Claude grins shamelessly while Edelgard remains stone-faced. “Okay,” he murmurs slowly. Edelgard grabs his hand. Dimitri feels her soft skin leading him back into her bedroom. Claude follows behind, still smiling.

“Shirt off,” Edelgard commands quietly as Claude closes the door behind them. Dimitri removes the Almyran tunic, revealing his bare chest. Edelgard pulls off Claude’s shirt, revealing her own.

“Damn,” Claude says quietly, staring at Dimitri’s shoulders. They both look at him. “If you’re not comfortable with me touching you, Dimitri, that’s fine. But damn.” His eyes rove over Dimitri’s naked chest hungrily.

Edelgard shakes her head, pulling Dimitri towards the bed. Dimitri can’t stop touching her, running his hands over her firm waist. She’s changed in the past five years, but that doesn’t stop him.

Claude brushes his lips over Edelgard’s ear, tugging at her pants. “Let Dimitri see how wet you are, hmm?” Edelgard flushes pink but bends over, taking off her trousers and her underwear as well. Dimitri pulls her on top of him, sliding his fingers between her wet folds. She moans as his fingers circle her clit, rubbing against it. A lot of his dreams centered around her and that night. He remembers everything. The taste of her cunt and how wet she was around his cock. 

Claude watches them, taking his cock out of his pants, stroking it heavily. Edelgard keens under his touch, pressing her body close to his. Dimitri sucks on her neck, leaving a bruise. “Dima, please.” Edelgard stutters as Dimitri begins to slide his fingers in and out of her, feeling her stretch under his careful hands. He’s always reminded of how small she is when he holds her.

Her hips begin to rock under his fingers, and she pants, hotly. Her mouth is open and her hands clutch at his shoulders. Her nails drag against his skin.

Dimitri lifts her, flipping her over and lowering her onto the bed. He spreads her knees, exposing her cunt to the open air. She shivers, her eyes shut as he continues to touch her. Claude comes over, pressing a knee onto the bed. 

He guides one of Edelgard’s hands to his cock and she begins to stroke it, her wrist turning. Dimitri presses his mouth to her open cunt, his tongue sliding inside of her. Edelgard moans, her sighs turning into high-pitched whimpers. Claude plays with her breasts, rolling a nipple between his thumb and finger, feeling the soft flesh.

Edelgard curses as Dimitri fingers a particular spot, her hands fisting in the sheets. She guides Claude’s cock into her mouth, sucking at it. Her cheeks hollow as she takes more and more of Claude down. “Fuck,” Claude groans as he supports the back of her head as she lowers her mouth down onto Claude. 

Dimitri stops to watch them, entranced as Edelgard’s pale lips wrap around Claude’s tan cock. His pants are getting uncomfortably tight.

Dimitri removes his pants, his cock straining against his underwear. To his shame, there’s a wet spot on his underwear. Claude watches him with an eyebrow raised as his cock juts out. “Damn,” Claude says quietly, raising an eyebrow. “It’s a good thing I have no shame because damn, Dimitri.” 

Dimitri flushes pink as he lowers himself back on to his knees. He begins to stroke himself as he begins to suck at Edelgard’s clit. He reaches a hand up to squeeze Edelgard’s soft breasts, feeling her small but malleable flesh.

Her back arches, Claude’s cock releasing from her mouth with a pop. She writhes, beginning to shake at his touch. A light sheen of sweat glows on her body as she shivers. She curses, sitting up, bleary eyed. Her legs continue to shake as she sits up.

“Nice, Dimitri,” Claude compliments, pressing a kiss to Edelgard’s temple. “How are you feeling?” He asks Edelgard quietly. “You good to keep going?” Edelgard nods, Claude prods to turn her over, presenting her backside to Dimitri. 

He grabs the oil from Edelgard’s drawer, tossing it to Dimitri. “Here ya go.” Dimitri slicks up his cock, stepping forward to guide it into Edelgard, spreading her cheeks slightly.

He enters easily, feeling her warmth envelope his cock. He curses softly, allowing her to get used to his girth. She pants, dropping to her elbows as she keens weakly. Claude cups the side of her cheek. “You good?” He asks as he checks in with her. She nods and Dimitri slides his hands up her hips, his hands skimming lightly across her thighs.

He slams his hips forward, and Edelgard groans as he slides back out. Claude guides her mouth back over his cock, his hand fisting gently in her hair. Her moans are muffled as Dimitri begins to thrust in and out of her soft and warm heat. 

He hasn’t done this in a while, and he is quickly spent when Edelgard reaches a hand down and begins to rub at her clit as he feels her tighten around him. Dimitri groans, pulling out of her and spending himself on her backside as his hand slides to finish himself off.

Claude pulls Edelgard off him with a pop from her mouth. He grabs a moist cloth to wipe Dimitri’s seed off her. “You good?” He asks her gently. She nods, pushing herself off the bed.

“Okay, on your back.” Claude guides Edelgard gently. She pauses as Claude looms over her. “I have a theory,” he assures her. She glances at him and Claude grabs a pillow to support her back. He plants one hand over her shoulder and uses his other to guide him into her entrance. 

He spreads her hips, slamming into her with heavy thrusts. “She usually punches me when I try to get on top of her,” he informs Dimitri casually as he slides in and out of her. Edelgard rolls her eyes at him but gasps as Claude begins to speed up the timing of his thrusts.

Dimitri watches Edelgard groan and pant under Claude, her hair flying messily everywhere. Edelgard curses as her hands fist in the bedsheets. At the sight, Dimitri can feel himself harden again and he begins to stroke himself in time with Claude’s thrusts. Edelgard groans, her eyes rolling back. Her legs wrap around Claude’s hips as he grinds heavily into her cunt, his thumb flicking over her clit.

Claude pulls away, his cock spent on Edelgard’s stomach as Edelgard breathes heavily from exhaustion. Claude wipes her off with the same cloth from earlier. She pushes herself off her elbows, panting as her chest rises with every breath of air. She’s flushed, her face slightly pinked. “Dimitri, come here.” She says quietly, brushing back her hair from her face.

Dimitri comes to the foot of the bed and Edelgard slides her mouth onto him, slightly choking on his girth. He groans, resisting the urge to thrust into her mouth. She slides her tongue around his cock, slowly going down further and further. She looks up, her big purple eyes meeting his, and he almost comes right there when she begins to bob her head.

With a visceral groan, he pulls her off him with saliva leading from the head of his cock to her mouth. He grabs her hips, lifting her into the air with ease. He slides her onto his cock, thrusting into her hot cunt. Edelgard wraps her arms around his shoulders, moaning into the juncture of his neck. 

He can feel the hot pants of air as he feels Edelgard sliding down further and further on his cock. He supports the underside of her knees and begins to bounce her on his hips as her legs wrap around his hips.

“Fuck.” He hears Claude groan as he sits down, watching them. He fists his cock quickly as Dimitri fucks Edelgard. She keens in his ear, wanton and hot. Her nails dig into his back as she sucks on his collarbone. She tightens around his cock, squeezing him.

He sets Edelgard back down onto the bed; her back laid flat as she gasps, her hands moving from her small breasts to her face as she continues to tighten around him. He plunges in and out of her, preparing almost to come. 

A fire begins to pool in his abdomen as his thrusts speed up, as Edelgard begins to stumble over her words. When Edelgard comes, her back arches and Dimitri pulls out, his thumb rubbing her clit quickly.

Her head falls to the side, mouthing a silent orgasm as Dimitri spends himself onto her front. He collapses next to her, breathing hard. Claude cleans up his hand and wipes Dimitri’s seed off Edelgard’s mound. He should get up, he should leave. But Edelgard crawls on top of him, her head resting against his chest and her breasts pressing against his stomach. 

Claude smiles and pats Dimitri’s shoulder. “Just stay, big guy. You know she's a cuddler.” He collapses next to them, face down on the bed. Dimitri rests a hand in the small of Edelgard’s back and closes his eyes, content. 


	35. Part IV Chapter IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note there is a sex scene in the middle of the chapter.

* * *

(4th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1187)

Felix sits, his feet tapping quickly against the ground. The others sent a letter when they left Fodlan’s Locket and they promised to send a letter when they were coming back. Well, that letter was received two days ago and that meant that they should be back soon. 

Sylvain wrote the letter, letting them know that the talks had gone well. Hilda will continue to write the Almyran King- hoping he will eventually visit Fodlan. He doesn’t know much about Alliance politics, only that they are overly complicated. 

The monastery has emptied for the most part. Hubert, Ferdinand, and Mercedes are what remains of the Black Eagles where Caspar and Linhardt left to travel across Fodlan. Bernadetta and Raphael returned to Varley. Dorothea and Petra went to Enbarr. For the Golden Deer, Lysithea went back to Ordelia with promises to return with Cyril. Leonie and Lorenz returned to Gloucester as Lorenz had to claim his title as the new Count Gloucester. Ignatz went with him. 

Most of the Blue Lions have stayed. Only Glenn and Ingrid had to go back to Galatea, but they’ll be back soon. Dedue went to Duscur with Ashe to visit his family, a trip long overdue.

Annette knocks her knee against his with a smile, and he smiles back. It’s now between them. But it’s something that he’s felt a long time coming. “I’m excited to see them,” Annette murmurs, twisting a pinky around his. “It’ll be good to see them again.” 

Alexandria insisted on a tea party with him, Edward, and Annette. Of course, it had to be supplied by Mercedes’s cookies. They aren’t drinking tea but apple juice instead. He has a silly paper crown planted on his head. He’s pretty sure Dedue is the one who taught Edward how to make it. 

They’ve been gone just under a month. It took a lot of time to travel to Almyra through Fodlan’s Throat and eventually to the Almyran capital. They’ll probably be exhausted when they come back, but at least they’ll be home. 

His father and King Lambert have spent a lot of time with Ferdinand and Lorenz, discussing the others’ plans for Fodlan. He’s heard the word radical far too many times over dinner. But they seem confident that the ideas will work; they will only take time to implement. 

His father is enamored with Alexandria and Edward as is King Lambert but his father especially. He’s almost sneered at him, he’s not getting grandkids from Felix anytime soon. He doesn’t even want to ask about Glenn and Ingrid, they’re already mushy enough. Dimitri almost melts every time he gets to hold Alexandria. He doesn’t even want to mention what happens when Edward speaks to him. 

He supposes it’s lucky that the kids haven’t started asking when Edelgard is coming home. His sanity couldn’t take it. They’ve certainly kept their governess, Fleche, and everyone busy as they run around the monastery. He’s had a day or two with them and his knees began to ache as they ran up and down the stairs. It’s not fun.

Edward nibbles at the cookie, Edelgard gave them a list of things to entertain them with and how many cookies they could have in one sitting. He’s pretty sure he’s seen King Lambert go way above the amount. “Do you think mama will be back soon?” Edward murmurs, kicking his legs out. Edward’s the quiet type, Alexandria is the one who tends to scream and run around. But it’s not as if Edward can’t keep up, but he’s just not the type to start it. 

“I think she’ll be here any day now,” Annette says pleasingly to the young boy. He nods and takes another bite of his cookie. They’ve been gone for a month, certainly not an odd amount of time for any state leaders to be away from their children. But Edelgard seemed to be more involved when it came to raising her twins. 

In the distance, they hear the horns echoing. Alexandria turns first, looking at Edward. “It might be mama and papa!” She pushes her chair away and takes off running, her hair blowing in the wind. Edward slides out of his chair and waits, looking at them both.

“Go ahead and go,” Felix nods, sighing. “We’ll catch up.” Edward takes off running, chasing after his sister. He and Annette tidy up the teacups and platters of cookies into the little wooden basket that Gilbert made for her. 

“They’re so cute!” Annette squeals, smiling to herself. She tucks the basket under her elbow and carries it away towards the gate. She holds out her hand for Felix’s and he takes it with a slight smile. Her hands have always been incredibly warm, even without gloves. 

They walk towards the main gate where they spot Dimitri and the others with a huge wagon behind them, carrying a strange machine. Edelgard is already showing them the Almyran scarves and trinkets she brought back with a beam. “I didn’t realize you were bringing back a circus,” Felix drawls casually when they reach the bottom of the steps. 

Edelgard’s eyes dart to their clasped hands towards Sylvain before retorting, “It’s an Almyran printing press, I’ll have you know.” She brushes back her hair. “It’s going to come very in handy soon.” She sweeps Edward into her arms. “And how were you?” She presses a kiss to his hairline, he locks his arms around her. “Were you two good for everyone?”

“We were!” Alexandria exclaims, already in Dimitri’s arms. “We missed you though,” she presses a kiss to Dimitri’s cheek sloppily. Dimitri smiles, leaning her against his waist. “How was Almyra?”

“It was very pretty,” Edelgard answers quickly, her eyes dart to Claude who’s organizing the unpacking of the printing press. “We had a wonderful time and I can’t wait to tell you all about it.”

* * *

(9th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1187)

Hubert takes one look at Edelgard and remarks calmly, “I hope you’ll be happy with him.” They’re having tea in the courtyard, catching up on Edelgard’s trip to Almyra. Ferdinand wants to hear everything. 

Edelgard freezes with her cup of Bergamot tea halfway to her mouth. “I’m sorry?” She chokes out, putting her cup of tea back down. Hubert stares flatly at her. The children are currently with Dimitri and King Lambert right now. Edelgard had them yesterday. So now it’s Dimitri’s turn.

Hubert pauses, choosing his words carefully. “You... had relations with Dimitri in Almyra, correct?” Ferdinand chokes on his tea as Edelgard stares at Hubert, shocked. “You seem happier.” 

Edelgard stares at him. “You approve?” She asks, surprised. “You’ve never liked Dimitri.” She responds coolly. Ferdinand’s gaze flits between them both, keeping silent. At the Officer’s Academy, Hubert always kept his opinions to himself, but even he sensed his disdain for the Faerghus Prince. Edelgard’s identity made all the more sense.

Hubert sighs, taking a sip of his black coffee before setting it back down. “I didn’t think he was worthy of you. I still don’t in a sense. But...you were happiest with him.” Hubert admits quietly. Ferdinand has to nod at that. He had envied Dimitri at the Officer’s Academy. El proved to be a capable second in command for Dimitri, and he wished that Hubert could provide him that same support. Because it felt like some days that Hubert didn’t like him at all. But Hubert could have been Hilda, and that wouldn’t have been very good for him at all.

Hubert reaches for Ferdinand’s hand, clasping it. Ferdinand smiles at him and Hubert smiles back. “I did not think happiness would be in my future, but it is,” he murmurs. “I would like it to be in yours as well.”

Edelgard swallows, looking down at her teacup. “I am… I am happier,” she states softly. Hubert spares her a soft smile and pats her on the hand comfortingly. “But I can’t have him, you know that.” She runs a finger around the rim of her teacup.

"And why not?" Ferdinand presses. They both look at him, Hubert hiding a small smile behind his cup of coffee. Edelgard just looks offended.

She shakes her head. "It just wouldn't be a good idea," Edelgard murmurs, sipping her tea. "For him or me." Ferdinand sympathizes with her. As the Imperial heir, Ferdinand had been concerned with his image for a long time. That weight was lifted from his shoulders, though. "He can't be like my father."

“So, the printing press?” Ferdinand says after they sit in silence for a moment. Edelgard showed him the contraption with great excitement, explaining that it would do wonders for his goal of universal education. Books were not cheap in Fodlan, as they cost money to produce. Most people didn’t know how to read. The printing press from Almyra would make things much easier. 

Edelgard brightens immediately. “The Almyran printer gave us instructions. Claude had them translated into Fodlanese so we should be able to reverse engineer the machine. If not, Padishah Tariq has already promised us to send shipments over Fodlan’s Throat, for a price of course.” A gleam enters her eyes. “In due time, we should have printing presses all over Fodlan.”

“You’re excited about this,” Ferdinand notes gently, seeing the excitement on Edelgard’s face. He wished he knew about her, he wished that they could have grown up together. 

Edelgard nods furiously. “Fodlan will see change under the new government, I’ll make sure of it,” she vows sternly. Her gaze darts towards Hubert. “Oh, and Hubert? Your theory on Claude was correct, all of it.” Hubert smirks, pleased. Ferdinand glances between the two and he shakes his head. He may be Hubert’s lover, but even they have their secrets.

* * *

(14th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1187)

Ever since Edelgard woke up on his bare chest, she has not spoken to Dimitri, or even looked at him. It had been well over two weeks and yet; she was still avoiding him. It was frustrating, how she blew hot and she blew cold towards him. She said that it was alright if he joined Claude and her in bed. And yet, she could not even bear to look at him. 

“Hey Dimitri,” Claude walks over casually, scratching the back of his neck. “You okay?” Dimitri stands on the bridge overlooking the valley that leads to Garreg Mach. And quite frankly, he is not.

“Why did you invite me that night?” Dimitri blurts out, looking at Claude confused. Even after six years of knowing Claude, he still made very little sense to him. His words and his actions left him confused at every turn. 

But he does not feel anger at Claude as his hands grip the bridge. He had no claim to Edelgard, no matter how he wished. It was something that he had to handle himself. 

Claude watches him carefully before sighing. “She says your name at night when she’s sleeping,” Claude confesses wryly. “She watches you constantly.” Dimitri stares at him. “You don’t see it because she does it when you’re not looking. I like Edelgard but you both are still in love with each other and you’re both too dumb to see it.” He concludes bluntly. 

He leans against the wall, his elbows pressing against it. “It’s not hard to notice,” Claude adds. “Not between you two. And don’t worry, I haven’t slept with her since. Guilty conscious and all that.” He jokes.

_ Oh. _ Dimitri stands there, silent and still as a rock. Claude shakes his head, patting Dimitri on the shoulder comfortably. “She’s in her room if you want to talk to her. I think Alexandria and Edward are with your dad if you need some privacy.” He walks off but not before turning around, “Good luck Dimitri.” 

Dimitri stares at his retreating back before running to Edelgard, Claude’s words running through his head. His boots crack against the floor, thudding as he takes every step. He breathes hard. Did Edelgard still love him? His heart pounded at the thought.

He throws open her door, catching her at her writing desk. She freezes a quill in her hand and an ink spot forms where it touches the parchment. “Dimitri?” She asks, looking at his flustered state. “Is everything alright? Is there something wrong with the children?” She stands up, worries on her brow.

Dimitri shakes his head. “No, I just wanted to speak with you.” He straightens his vest, staring at her in a white dress that falls above her knees. She blinks at him questioningly. “Do- do you still love me?” He asks her quietly. She stares and takes a step back, shaking her head tremblingly. “Please Edelgard, I won’t ask you again. Do you still love me?”

“Dimitri- don’t,” Edelgard says, anguished. “You can’t.” She backs away, her legs hitting the back of her room. 

“Edelgard, please.” Dimitri implores, as far as he can recall. She has never said that she didn’t love him, only that he couldn’t love her. He almost steps forward, further into the room but stops. He doesn’t want to corner her in here. 

Edelgard’s hands make fists into her skirts as she looks away from him. Her eyes catch on a box by the side of her desk. She rifles through the box, pulling out papers. It was a box of her things from Enbarr, from her office. 

Even though she was their prisoner, TWSITD still made her do most of the paperwork. She handled the bureaucratic elements of the Empire after Duke Aegir was placed under house arrest. She pulls out a letter and hands it to Dimitri. “You were supposed to read this at Enbarr,” she mumbles. It has  _ To Dimitri _ scrawled on the front of it. 

He opens the letter and begins to read.

_ My Dearest Dimitri, _

_ I’m sorry that it happened this way. I miss you.I love you. I miss the long nights that we had together where we could just listen to each other sleep in peace. I miss that. You’ll meet Alexandria and Edward soon, and after the tears have been shed, you’ll notice that they bear a resemblance to you. They’re yours. I’m sorry that this was the way you were told. But there was no other way.  _

_ Alexandria bears your eyes and your Crest, and the amount of control she has over it at her age is incredible. I remember that even when we were 13 you were still breaking lances with it. Be careful with her, if you give her an inch she will take a mile. She loves deeply and most assuredly. You will have your hands full with her.  _

_ Edward has your hair. He is shy, and he relies on Alexandria to show him the way. IT does not mean that he follows her, only that he will take account of his options and the one that his sister favors, he will weigh most heavily on. He will distrust you for a while, but eventually, he will warm up to you, I promise.  _

_ I’m sorry for everything Dimitri, but this was the only way this could happen. I wanted to introduce you to them, but things rarely happen the way we want them to. Enclosed is a journal meant for you. I wrote in it as often as I could. I hope it is a comfort to you. _

_ I love you. Always have and always will. I love you. _

_ El. _

Dimitri stares at her and looks down at the last line, his mouth dry. “Do you still love me?” The words tumble out of his mouth, out of his control. His heart stops as he waits for her answer.

Edelgard trembles under his gaze but nods, her light purple eyes meeting his. Tears are gathering at the corner of her eyes as she nods. “Yes, Dimitri. I love you.” She murmurs gently.

Dimitri surges forward, taking her into his arms. He cups her cheek, tilting her head forward as her lips crash against his. She wraps her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. 

He lifts her onto the banister, his hands grabbing at her thighs. He dips his head to suck on the side of her throat. “Oh- Dimitri, please,” she keens, running her hands over his back. Dimitri slips a hand under her dress, reaching for her cunt. “Dimitri- the door,” she gasps as his fingers dip into her undergarments, reaching down to her clit. She pulls away and pushes him with a firm hand against his chest. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are dazed. 

She rushes over to lock the door and when she closes it; he pins her against it, a hand securing both of hers above her head. “Dimitri,” she gasps raggedly but doesn’t fight him off. If she wanted to, she could. Dimitri forges on, using his other hand to remove her undergarments with a swift tug down to her knees. 

His hand plunged into her cunt, feeling her soaked core. Her head tilts back as she groans and Dimitri begins to rub her clit. His mouth latches onto her neck, bruising it with his lips.

She’s on the balls of her feet as he has her pinned high with his hands. She really is much smaller than him. Her hips buck against his hand when he slips his fingers in, stretching her. “Dimitri,” she pleads, looking for more friction. Her thighs squeeze around his hand as she gasps wantonly. 

Dimitri releases her hands and drops to his knees, lifting her dress to her hips. He presses his face to her cunt, tasting her, his tongue finding her slit. “Fuck,” Edelgard moans, her head tilted back and her breaths coming in hot pants. He uses the other hand, not holding her dress up, to rub his thumb against her clit.

She looks down at him, her purple eyes dark and greedy. Her hips begin to rock, her feet barely touching the ground. Her nails scrape against the door, looking for leverage. “Dimitri~,” he lifts her leg over his shoulder as she gasps as this angle opens her up for his tongue, greedily searching her caverns. 

Her hands run through his hair, making fists in it. He feels her hands tightening and smiles, renewing his efforts. His tongue circles her clit as he thrusts his fingers into her. Edelgard bends over as she comes, her legs shaking from exertion. 

His hands wrap around her waist, carrying her to the banister and resting her on it. Her body is relaxed as she dazedly watches him undress.

He removes her boots, her white dress, and her bindings, his steady hands unlacing the front. She watches him all the while as she lays against the banister, the front of her chest pink with exhaustion. He slips off his boots and removes his shirt. “The bed?” He asks quietly, and she nods, her last orgasm exhausting her. He removes his trousers and undergarments, fully nude as she was. He lifts her, carrying her to the bed, and feels the clean fresh sheets. 

He lays her down, her hair splayed out everywhere. He spreads her legs, running his hands across her firm hips and thighs. “Good?” He asks, and she nods fervently, watching him guide his cock into her cunt. She groans as he enters her, feeling the warmth of her core. She wants him desperately, and he wants her as well.

She reaches for his hand, her fingers intertwining with his as he plants the other above her head. “Move,” Edelgard pleads, bucking her hips against hers. His knees press against the underside of her thighs and he begins to slide in and out of her, feeling her slick coat around his cock.

She moans, panting harshly. Dimitri’s thrusts are long and slow, grinding their hips together. He doesn’t want to spend himself too quickly. He wants to show Edelgard how much he loves her. Edelgard releases his hand, pushing herself up to kiss him. Dimitri groans, feeling the drag of her nipples against his chest. 

He gripped her hips, lifting her cunt up towards him to allow him to thrust upwards at a new angle. Edelgard keens, her head resting on the pillow as she digs her nails into her thigh. “Dimitri- oh!” She covers her face with her arm, moaning loudly. Her head tosses wildly, her hair flying everywhere. “Please~”

Dimitri rocks his hips against hers, savoring this new angle. He looks down at her and her flushed skin and her nails biting into him. With her hips tilted up towards him, resting on his thighs, Dimitri moves to rub her clit with a thumb, rubbing it in time with his thrusts.

“Dimitri,” she sobs, her arm still covering her face. Her legs wrap around his waist as he rolls his hips into a grind, focusing his attention wholly onto her. She tightens around him, her hand fisting into a sheet on her bed and her head tilted backward. Her mouth opens in a silent scream, her chest arching off the bed.

He’s not done with her yet, though. She gasps, catching her breath as she comes off this high. He’s had a lot of time imagining what he’d do with her. He intends to take his time. “Okay?” Dimitri asks before he pulls her into his lap. 

Edelgard nods as he guides his cock into her hot, slick cunt. He never touched Mercedes like this. He didn’t want to because he felt guilty. He would have imagined Edelgard in her place, and that wasn’t fair to Mercedes. 

She loops her arms around his neck and locks her ankles around his back as he rocks his hips, thrusting into her languidly. He missed this- he missed her. He presses small kisses to her neck, peppering them along her collarbone and her shoulder. 

She gasps, grinding into his lap. He presses his forehead against hers, their eyes meeting. His hands grab her waist, her body moulding against his. “I love you, Edelgard,” he moans, closing his eyes, losing himself in the sensation.

She keens, her hips bouncing on top of his. Her breasts drag against the firm planes of his chest. 

He groans, “El- I’m, I’m close.” Stars begin to appear behind his eyes as Edelgard speeds up her grinding, her mouth meeting the flesh of his shoulder. Her back arches as her cunt squeezes around his cock as she comes in his lap. 

Dimitri pulls out his hand finishing himself off in a tight grip. He curses, spending himself onto her. He pants harshly, watching her come off her high. He pulls away, finding a cloth on the table to clean her off with it. 

“Dimitri,” she murmurs, reaching up a hand for him. He comes over and she tugs him down to her bed, collapsing on top of him. She curls up on his bare chest, her head resting near his shoulder. “I love you,” she mumbles tiredly. Dimitri runs a hand through her hair, twisting it between his fingers. 

“I love you too.”

* * *

(16th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1187)

Mercedes has an agreement with Sylvain, it does not involve loyalty or commitment- after seeing Sylvain flit between girls at the monastery, she would be so foolish to expect such a thing from him. So when Sylvain guiltily confesses to her one night before bed, she stares, surprised.

“Why do you feel bad?” Mercedes asks, tilting her head curiously when she examines the scratch marks all up and down Sylvain’s back. It seems that Felix is a scratcher. Curious, she never saw a single mark on Annette except for a kiss mark hiding underneath her collar. 

Sylvain removes his hands from his face and stares, “You’re not angry,” he remarks, confused. “Why are you not angry?” His scarlet eyes are stunned as Mercedes pats his hands comfortingly. 

“It’s complicated,” Mercedes admits. Being in such close quarters with Sylvain and the others, it has blurred the boundaries quite a bit. “You know about Ashe and Dedue, correct?” 

Sylvain nods, “Yeah- everyone saw that coming a mile away.” Mercedes nods in agreement, the two of them spent many days in the kitchens and the greenhouse together. Once they were all united, it was as if they never missed a beat. Her cheeks slightly color and turn a blushing pink. 

She knows what they’re doing is unorthodox, but it feels right to her. It feels right to all of them. “Well,” she murmurs. “You should probably know that I’m also sleeping with Dedue...and Annette.”

Sylvain’s jaw drops as he gawks, his mouth agape. She wouldn’t have seen this coming either. But they fit. She had already cleared it with both Annette and Dedue, and Dedue already made sure that Ashe was okay with it. Annette also slept with Ashe as well, after making sure Felix was alright. The only missing piece of the puzzle somehow was... Sylvain. 

“It’s a lot to take in,” Mercedes squeezes Sylvain’s hand. “But we talked it over last month while you were gone and it made sense to us. We love each other and we really shouldn’t stop hiding that kind of love for each other.” She peers into his eyes, her dark blue eyes meeting Sylvain’s scarlet. “Are you alright?”

“I did not see that coming,” Sylvain mutters under his breath. “I really did not see that coming.” He covers his face with his hands. “Everyone’s okay with it?”

He stares at her, his thumb dropping so his eye can peek out at her. 

Mercedes nods. Perhaps in time, the relationships will solidify into single pairings, but this was what made them happiest. She hoped that Sylvain would find that same happiness as well. She squeezes Sylvain’s thigh reassuringly. “I’m sorry I didn’t speak to you earlier about it,” she states calmly. “But how do you explain everything?”

Sylvain runs a hand through his hair and nods, “Certainly explains why Felix attacked me on the training room floor and why Annette wasn’t surprised.” He frowns, “Felix was never good at explaining things.” He remarks, glancing up at her. “So I guess everything’s okay?”

“Everything’s okay.” Mercedes confirms, tugging Sylvain into bed with her. She missed him. She intends to show him how much she missed him.

* * *

(18th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1187)

It’s been four days since Edelgard told him she still loved him, and Dimitri feels like he’s been floating in the clouds ever since. They haven’t told the children yet, but she’s been staying in his bed every day. He gets to feel the warmth of her body when he wakes up and hears the sound of her breathing before he sleeps. He hasn’t even told his father yet. But he’s happy. 

Dimitri noses at where her hair meets her neck, breathing her scent in. She used to be an early riser, but Edelgard is content to slumber away in his arms. He peppers soft kisses across her hairline and down her neck, feeling her slowly wake up. She rubs her face on his chest, yawning tiredly. He rests his hand protectively on the small of her back, his other entwined in her hand. 

“Morning,” Edelgard murmurs, her eyes waking up blearily. Dimitri presses a kiss to her forehead, smiling. She slips off him, brushing away her hair from her face. Even with the Crest of Flames removed, they aren’t sure if her hair will ever go back to normal. It’s been several months and there have been no signs of change. 

“Morning,” Dimitri responds, pressing a kiss to her cheek. She smiles shyly back at him, ducking her head as she steps up to go change into her clothes. She always wore shorts at the Officer’s Academy, but now she wears dresses instead. A number of small red marks pepper up her neck and around her collarbone. Red lines of nails being dragged across his skin mark up his back. Two days spent learning each other’s bodies again.

“I’m thinking about telling Alexandria and Edward about us,” Edelgard murmurs as Dimitri laces up the back of her dress. His hands still. This is one of the dresses that Dorothea gifted to her. Her head tilts up as she peers into Dimitri’s frozen face. “What do you think?”

“Alexandria will be happy,” Dimitri remarks calmly. Since he was revealed as their father, Alexandria has accepted him warmly. She enjoys being carried by him, she gives him kisses and presents. It’s Edward that he’s worried about quite frankly. Edward has never said a rude thing to him, but... Edward doesn’t quite trust him yet. 

“So will Edward,” Edelgard responds tartly, reaching up to kiss Dimitri briefly, pulling away. “He likes you,” she says as she tugs her well-worn boots on. 

Dimitri stares before he pulls on his shirt, tucking it into his belt, “Are you sure?” He answers as she takes his hand and they walk out of his room. Edward has yet to smile at him. He still likes Hubert more than him, for the goddess’s sake. It would be infuriating if he didn’t see how much Hubert adored his children.

“Yes,” Edelgard tosses her hair over her shoulder. “He would never have conspired with Alexandria if he didn’t,” she responds teasingly. At Dimitri’s surprised look on his face, “You didn’t notice?”

He wrinkled his nose. “I noticed something was afoot, but I assumed that it was Alexandria’s doing.” He assumed that Edward was just beginning to accept him, he seemed comforted by the fact that he would be going with Edelgard to defeat Nemesis. But like was a strong word, especially for Edward. 

Edelgard shakes her head disbelievingly. “He likes you,” she says reassuringly. “He can make his own decisions for himself, they don’t agree on everything,” she states pointedly, dancing away.

“Minx,” Dimitri growls, pushing Edelgard against the wall, pressing a knee between her thighs. Edelgard laughs, tilting her head up. These past few days, they’ve made up for a lost time, sneaking away for stolen kisses and secret orgasms. They might have spent two days in bed earlier.

When Dimitri sucks at her jawline, Edelgard gasps delightedly. “Maybe we should have stayed in bed,” she says in a low husky voice, looping her arms around his neck. A tempting thought.

Dimitri teases her nose with his. “Then we would have never left it,” he responds adoringly. They stayed up late that night, making love. He almost panicked the next morning when he thought Edelgard wasn’t in bed with him. She had been pressed into his side, trapped between him and the wall. He didn’t want to lose her again. If they spent the morning in bed, then the children would begin to wonder again. 

They hear the loud pattering of feet and Alexandria’s delighted shrieks as Edward chases her around the courtyard, laughing all the while. Dimitri pulls away almost automatically on instinct, but Edelgard latches an arm around his elbow, pulling him close. He stares at her as the children storm into view, excited. 

Alexandria catches sight of them first and then Edward as Edelgard pulls Dimitri close to her with a small smile on her lips, waiting for their reaction. Alexandria screams, ecstatic as Edward mutters, “Finally.”

* * *

(22nd Day of Pegasus Moon, 1187)

The invitation arrives in the mail unexpectedly. Her household already knew Cyril from when he arrived with Edelgard and the others, but her parents didn’t know who he was. Oh, she had written to them about the Almyran servant boy at the monastery who she was teaching how to read and write, but they didn’t know Cyril- not like Lysithea did. 

He’s been adrift since Lady Rhea died. Shamir set off with Catherine weeks ago as Catherine had her own way of mourning the fallen archbishop, so Cyril’s had to figure out what to do. He’s never returning to Almyra, that’s for sure. He shot down Hilda’s invitation so quickly, Lysithea couldn’t even blink.

Her parents liked him, of course. She knows the fact that he’s an Almyran makes them wary of him, but Lysithea does not care. She has her life back, she’ll choose how she’ll live it. Besides, as her father notes, teaching Cyril how to read and write was the first time she ever wrote to them about something that was not her studies. 

He spends a lot of his time in the library; reading has become a comfort to him in these past few months. While Lysithea did not trust Lady Rhea at times, she understood how important she was to Cyril, especially since she disappeared for five years only to lose her again after a few months. Such fleeting hope snuffed out by death. 

She brings the letter over to Cyril, surrounded by a tower of books- a reversal of the scenes that were played out in the monastery. It was usually Lysithea hiding in the books while Cyril sought her out. 

Cyril’s eyes seek out the letter immediately and look at her curiously. “Everything alright?” He asks, sitting up straighter. The front of the letter is addressed to Lysithea and Cyril in Edelgard’s elegant handwriting. 

“Just a note,” Lysithea reassures him. They’ve been trading letters, comparing their physical and mental states to one another. They want to make sure that if there were any side effects from the Crest Removal surgery that it’s well-documented between the two. They haven’t heard of any other survivors yet, but they’re out there somewhere. “It came in the post and I wanted to read it with you.”

When she peels open the letter, a small card falls out. Lysithea examines it and covers her mouth with a hand when she finishes. “Lysithea?” Cyril asks concerned, “Everything okay?”

She looks up at him and announces. “Dimitri and Edelgard are getting married,” she says in a hushed voice. “It’s going to be a small ceremony, but they want us there.”

Cyril blinks, absorbing the information. “That’s good for them,” he murmurs, setting the book aside, leaning over to take the card from Lysithea. He glances at her, “When they say small…” he drifts off. 

“I have to assume that it’s only going to be the Three Houses,” Lysithea responds, looking the card over. However, she does purse her lips. Dimitri is the future King of Faerghus and Edelgard is the Hero of Fodlan after slaying Nemesis. How will they ever manage to pull a small wedding off?

She certainly doesn’t envy them. But if needed, they could do a small ceremony now and have a larger reception where all the nobles would be invited to Garreg Mach. Or they would risk snubbing most of Fodlan. “I’m happy for them,” she muses, they’ve both endured so much.

* * *

(24th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1187)

Perhaps irresponsible of her, but when Dorothea received the scrawled note from Edelgard requesting their return, Dorothea had Petra drop everything and they went straight back to Garreg Mach.

“Edie!” Dorothea squeals when she catches sight of her. Edelgard turns and smiles as Dorothea tackles her in a hug. “I’m so happy for you,” she gushes, beaming. They’ve already been here for a couple of hours. Edelgard woke up late with Dimitri.

She raises a delicate eyebrow, pushing down Edelgard’s collar slightly, “I see Dimitri’s excited as well,” she smirks. Edelgard flushes, pushing away her prying fingers. Even after all these years, Dimitri was still a marker, enjoying bruising Edelgard’s pale skin with his mouth.

Dorothea slots her elbow around Edelgard’s and they walk around the monastery chatting. Dorothea has never cared for politics, but she lets Edelgard describe how Almyra was to her. By the end of this year, Petra is hoping to take her to Brigid to meet her grandfather.

“So how’s wedding planning going?” Dorothea asks, curiously. The wedding can’t be too big or Edelgard wouldn’t have invited her on such brief notice. But it doesn’t seem like anyone has actually heard about the future wedding. Even though Edelgard has stepped down as Emperor of Adrestia, she is still very much viewed as its leader. And Dimitri will be King of Faerghus once his father retires. In a sense, this wedding will be the symbolic unification of Fodlan, disregarding the Alliance of course. 

Edelgard eyes her strangely. “What wedding planning?” She responds, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Once everyone arrives, Dimitri and I will have our ceremony in the cathedral and Seteth will officiate.” She grimaces, “The actual planning will be the receptions afterward once Fodlan has heard what we have done.”

Dorothea stops in her tracks. “You don’t have anything planned?” She asks, aghast. Edelgard stares at her and nods slowly. “Like not even a dress?” Her voice goes shrill.

Edelgard winces but nods again. “We want to keep it simple,” Edelgard responds tightly. “Dimitri wanted to get married on the spot, but I told him that you’d kill him if we got married without you there,” she muses, smiling.

Dorothea sniffs and retorts. “Damn right.” She liked Dimitri, but she liked Edelgard more. But even she could see how much happier they both made each other. If not, Dorothea would have tried to spirit Edelgard away to Brigid with Petra. Petra liked Edelgard and wouldn’t have minded. “So, not even a dress?” She asks curiously. The tight red dress they fit Edelgard into all those years had disappeared into Hilda’s closet, most likely. 

Speaking of the winter ball, they had to wheedle Edelgard into the revealing dress. Their final trump card was saying how much Dimitri would like to see her in it, and then finally, El had relented. And it was worth it. She didn’t think Dimitri could turn that shade of red. 

“Nothing for a wedding,” Edelgard replies as they continue on their walk. “I’m not wearing white to the wedding. The children are excited, of course,” she notes quietly. “They’ve been plotting against me for months,” she says wryly. “I thought I had a break from their rebellious stage.” 

Dorothea laughs, it was quite funny trying to watch Edward and Alexandria maneuver their parents into close corners. She would be lying if she said that she didn’t lend a hand to them once or twice. “We’ll find you a dress,” Dorothea says reassuringly. “It won’t be a wedding dress and it doesn’t have to be white, but you should at least wear a dress.”

Edelgard relents, smiling as Dorothea tucks her arm underneath Edelgard’s elbow. She’ll have to consult with Hilda and her ridiculous wardrobe, but they’ll find Edelgard a dress for her wedding. 

* * *

(25th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1187)

“So what color is Edelgard’s dress?” Sylvain asks curiously, looking through the boxes of formal wear that Dimitri had shipped from the palace in Fhirdiad. He knows the wedding will be a small affair. All of their friends are returning to Garreg Mach on short notice. He hasn’t even told his father yet about what’s happening in Garreg Mach. But he's sure his father has heard something. 

After getting his mind blown with the revelation that all of their friends were sleeping together, the news that Dimitri and Edelgard were getting married shocked Sylvain.

Okay, not completely shocked. A blind man could have seen the tension between the two which only skyrocketed when they told the twins about who Dimitri was to them. But still, no one would have predicted a wedding a year ago. 

Dimitri pauses while sorting through the clothes. It’s going to be a small affair for them, Edelgard won’t be wearing a traditional wedding dress and Dimitri will wear formal clothing but not an entire suit. Sylvain’s surprised that they didn’t do their vows that week. “I think she said a light blue,” Dimitri answers, returning to his clothes. “Dorothea and Hilda will be helping her with it.”

“Got it,” Sylvain leans against the back of the chair as Dimitri begins to pull out vests. “Go for the dark blue one,” he suggests as Dimitri compares the two. He puts the two dark blue vests that he has on his bed. “Grey pants?”

Dimitri glances at him, surprised. “Not dark blue?” He has the matching pants in one hand. 

Sylvain shakes his head. “Pair it either with black or grey,” he answers, resting his chin on the back post of the chair. Ingrid and Glenn are still traveling from Galatea to be here. Felix doesn’t like talking clothes, so he’s probably with Annette or something. “White long-sleeved shirt,” he answers as Dimitri plucks the article of clothing from the box. 

He compares the two vests to each other. One of them is more of a classic blue, very similar to Dimitri’s cape, while the other is a dark blue that is almost black in color. Dimitri puts down the other vest, fingering the dark blue vest. “I find myself preferring this one,” he confesses lightly, his fingers tracing around the pattern of the back of the vest.

Sylvain grins triumphantly, “Then it sounds like to me we have your wedding outfit planned then.” He looks at the clothes strewn around the room. “We’ll need to figure out where to put the clothes so they don’t get ruined.”

They set aside the clothes and put the rest back into the box. They won’t ship it back to Fhirdiad just yet, but they’ll need to have a place to put it somewhere. Sylvain will ask Hilda for tips later on where they can keep it. After all, she had several wagons come in when they first arrived at Garreg Mach. Her room was messy, but it certainly didn’t account for all the clothes she brought.

A knock on the door interrupts their cleaning. “Dimitri?” King Lambert’s voice rings clear through the door. Dimitri rushes to the door, opening it to find King Lambert leaning against his cane. 

Since learning about Alexandria and Edward, King Lambert has gotten younger, the very air around him feels lighter. It’s good for him; he’s done his best since the Tragedy of Kleiman to rule Faerghus to the best of his abilities. Any calls for retirement have been quelled as he has led them through both tragedy and war.

His eyes alight on Sylvain and remarks, “You’re busy, I’ll come at a later time.” He turns to leave, but Sylvain stands up before he can get far.

“Your majesty, we’re done here,” Sylvain answers truthfully, standing up to leave. “Let me know if you need anything else, okay Dimitri?”

* * *

(25th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1187)

Edelgard is curled into bed, tucked into Dimitri’s side as he ponders his father’s words. “What are you thinking about?” Edelgard asks, a hand pressed underneath his shirt against his skin. He had an eventful morning with Sylvain, picking out his clothes for the wedding. They’re waiting on Caspar and Linhardt to return. It seems that they went up north to explore Duscur and will return shortly. They’re wandering around Fodlan. 

“My father had some news,” Dimitri responds, turning to face her. Their legs are tangled together. He can’t believe how fortunate he is, sometimes. His father lives, he has his friends and his health, and now he has Edelgard and the children. He still has his nightmares, but with Edelgard by his side, they’ve subsided greatly.

Edelgard raises a thin white brow, waiting for the news. “He wants me to succeed him as king by the end of the year.” Edelgard freezes, not answering. “I knew this was coming,” Dimitri confesses. His father’s health had been struggling for a while. He seems healthier, but Dimitri still worries about him. 

“He wants to spend time with Alexandria and Edward,” Dimitri continues, Edelgard reaches out and grabs his hands, rubbing them comfortingly but she says nothing, pursing her lips in silence. “He’s been King for almost thirty years. He knows of our plans to transition everything to Garreg Mach. My coronation will make it easier.” He glances at Edelgard desperately, “Say something, please.” 

He knows that she doesn’t want Edward or Alexandria to rule; she does not want that burden of leadership placed on their shoulders. But people will assume as the three countries transition to a United Fodlan, that if the coronation occurs, he will be the new leader. And she doesn’t want that to happen. 

“I love you and I’m still marrying you,” Edelgard remarks slowly and calmly, and Dimitri’s heart starts again. Her eyes meet his and she says firmly, “But they aren’t going to succeed you. I’m not going to do that to them.”

Dimitri nods fervently, promising, “I’ll do everything in my power to make it not happen.” They’ve already brought up the idea of succession, not relying on blood ties. They’ll need to figure out a way to find successors, but they’ll have time. 

“In our power,” Edelgard notes dryly. She leans against him, pressing her body against his. “I still hold quite a bit of influence in the Empire.” She does, the nobles there still look to her to lead them. Most of the Seven are gone or under house arrest, she’s the last of the Hresvelgs. 

Dimitri presses a kiss against her forehead, grateful. “I love you,” he murmurs, pulling her into his lap. He can smell his soap on her and buries his head into the curve of her neck. She sits there contentedly, her legs hanging over his thigh. 

“Do you still have nightmares?” Edelgard asks abruptly, running her hands through his hair, her nails scraping against his scalp. Dimitri freezes, contemplating the question. He did still have nightmares, but they weren’t her fault. He still saw the flames of the Tragedy of Kleiman, Patricia’s figure in his dreams. Not when Edelgard was in his bed, but they had haunted him for years. He did not see them going away anytime soon, even with Edelgard there. 

He nods slowly, keeping his face hidden. Too many times has Dedue or Mercedes woken by his screaming. He was not as he should be, in control of himself. It was a weakness. 

“I have nightmares too now,” Edelgard murmurs, resting her chin on top of his head. “I can’t stand cold and dark places, and I don’t like my hands being restrained. But when I’m with you...I’m less afraid.” Dimitri looks up and she presses her forehead against his. She squeezes his hand, “I’m sorry I went with Hubert. We didn’t know.”

(27th Day of Pegasus Moon, 1187)

* * *

It’s been almost a month since they returned from Almyra and he saw his parents. He was tempted to stay there, but his father was in good health and Fodlan needed him. In the future, he will have to leave, but right now, he can stay with his friends. 

Given the glares that Hilda bestows on him every week, she wants him to tell the others and soon. Lorenz and the others have already landed back in Garreg Mach for Edelgard and Dimitri’s wedding, so he has all the Golden Deer with him. Surprising a few, Ignatz came back with Raphael’s little sister, Maya. Lorenz will employ them both in his service, as Maya has proven to be just as good of an artist as Ignatz.

But how the fuck is he going to break the news? He knows that most of them won’t care, Lorenz might sputter about it but Leonie will talk him off the cliff as she usually does. And he knows that it doesn’t change anything. He’s still the Duke of Riegan, despite his half Almyran side. He thought when he got to Fodlan, he’d be more accepted, but that was proven false very quickly. 

He gathers them all up for a picnic outside, just like he used to do at the Officer’s Academy. Professor Hanneman always approved it, referring to it as house bonding. 

He watches them all carefully to make sure they aren’t drinking or eating anything. He keeps his hands hidden in his lap. “So…. I’m from Almyra and I’m the Crown Prince there,” he states bluntly and Lorenz chokes on-air, hacking away. Leonie sighs and pats his back.

Cyril’s eyes dart towards Lysithea, who rolls her eyes. Ignatz blinks, staring at him wide-eyed through his glasses. Raphael continues to chew on his food but watches the others nervously, waiting for their reactions. 

Hilda smacks a hand against her forehead and Marianne pats her on the hand comfortingly. Claude would rather get the information out there bluntly and then handle questions afterward. 

Lorenz continues to gasp for air and Claude waits in silence for their response. “That’s it?” Lysithea says bluntly, taking a sip of her apple juice. She had almost shoved him when he poured it out for her, but it didn’t stop her from drinking it.

Lorenz chokes again, staring at her and Claude asks, “You knew?” Lysithea rolls her eyes once more and Cyril squeezes her hand. “How?”

“I had an inkling,” Cyril says guiltily, speaking up. “The Almyran side was obvious to me, but I didn’t realize that you were noble until Nader arrived.” At Claude’s surprised look, Cyril snaps, “Everyone knows General Nader,” he says grumpily. “Even orphaned Almyran kids know the Nader the Undefeated.” 

“Thank you for telling us,” Ignatz says calmly with a smile. “It certainly explains a lot about you.” The artist chews on his bread, baked by Bernadetta for the picnic. He’ll have to tell the other houses soon enough. The others have kept his secret. 

Hilda nods vigorously, “Literally everything about him makes sense,” she snorts, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder. “I was this close to killing him,” Hilda shakes her head. “Do you know how much easier my life would have been if you just told us?” She kicks Claude lightly with her boot. “So much easier,” she whines. 

“So what happens next?” Leonie asks once Lorenz stops coughing. “Fodlan won’t be Fodlan eventually, but if you’re the Crown Prince, how are you going to manage Almyra and Fodlan at the same time?” 

“I’m staying in Fodlan for now,” Claude responds tensely. “My father is in good health and does not expect to retire anytime soon. Eventually, I will have to return to secure his title. But you’re not getting rid of me just yet.”

“Very well,” Lorenz announces, wiping his mouth delicately as if he hadn’t been choking only minutes before. “Thank you for telling us Claude, it means the world to us.” He raises his cup of tea. “To the Alliance and your continued good health.”


	36. Finale

* * *

(4th Day of Lone Tree Moon, 1187)

Hilda and Dorothea are in charge of getting Edelgard ready for her wedding. She believes that it is Claude and the others will be helping Dimitri. They need more help for Dimitri- she imagines her future husband as a ball of nerves. She’s nervous too, but she’s much better at hiding it than Dimitri ever was.

“Dimitri’s going to cry when he sees you.” Hilda declares as they pin up her hair into the bun after they braided it. She’s already wearing the floor-length light blue dress that Hilda designed for her. Dorothea pushed hard for red. But Hilda thinks the light blue fits her better in this situation.

Dorothea snorts, “As if he hasn’t started crying already.” They still need to add the finishing touches for Edelgard’s makeup. They chose to keep it light today. Her features are delicate enough to only need the slightest touch of makeup. They fit the veil over her, pinning it to her bun. 

They spin her around for the mirror, allowing Edelgard to examine herself after they placed the finishing touches. They’ll use the veil to hide her face later, but now, she gets to see what she looks like. 

Edelgard sighs, “Please don’t make fun of my husband,” she admonishes lightly as she stands up, the veil falling over her shoulders. She fixes a stray lock of hair, pinning it behind her ears. 

It’s hard to imagine that today is the day. She never thought it would arrive. Never would have thought in six years that she would have survived this long to experience it. But here she is. Getting married to Dimitri. She smiles at her reflection and Dorothea and Hilda break out into large grins. 

It’s going to be a small affair for both of them. Still, a sizable wedding given all of their friends, but it won’t even compare to the receptions they’ll have to host once news spreads across Fodlan. Edelgard isn’t looking forward to that, to say the least. She can handle politics and the talking, but questions are going to come in. People will stare at her and her children. She’s not looking forward to that part. 

“You look lovely,” Ingrid says, stepping in with Glenn, who’s grinning broadly. For someone related to Felix, he’s a much more light-hearted person. “How do you feel?” She asks, being the only one of their friends to be married. Glenn’s going to walk her down the aisle to Dimitri. Lord Rodrigue was offered the opportunity, but he turned it down saying that he would cry too much to make it down unbruised. 

Edelgard presses a hand to her chest, “Surprisingly nervous,” she admits slowly. “Was it the same for you?” She knows that she can’t actually feel her heartbeat, but it feels like it.  _ Thump Thump Thump.  _ If she has to wait any longer, she’s going to be a bundle of nerves. 

“Worse,” Glenn answers for his wife. “I was afraid she wasn’t going to make it.” Ingrid rolls her eyes and shoves Glenn gently. Edelgard has to smile at that. Ingrid was worried about marrying Glenn, about letting him down. But here they were. Here they all were.

“I had last-minute jitters,” Ingrid retorts. “I think everyone is getting ready. Alexandria and Edward are already with Dimitri.” They’ll be waiting at the altar with Dimitri. Seteth will officiate the wedding, reciting their vows. 

“Every wedding is going to be like this, huh,” Hilda says, brushing away her hair. She and Marianne haven’t even started discussing wedding plans, but as two members of the Roundtable, it’s going to be a nightmare and huge, to say the least. “A class reunion every time.”

“It better be,” Dorothea shoots her a glare. “We’ve had so much time with each other, it’s hard to imagine being far apart.” When Petra inherits the throne in Brigid, Dorothea will be with her. And then they’ll never see her. 

Edelgard watches them both carefully. She and Dimitri will be based in Garreg Mach, but everyone else will be so far apart, leading their homes and their lives apart. They’ve had more time than ever expected together. 

“We good?” Glenn asks them curiously as he offers Edelgard his arm. She takes it gratefully. The heels they were able to convince her to wear are much bigger than the ones she’s accustomed to wearing. She could get away with it, Dimitri was that much taller than her. He presses a kiss to her hair. “Now let’s go get you married.”

* * *

(4th Day of Lone Tree Moon, 1187)

“Dimitri, calm down,” Felix mutters as he taps his feet against the floor, waiting at the altar. Seteth watches him sympathetically. Ingrid already came by and let them know that Edelgard would be arriving with Glenn soon. Dimitri feels as if his heart is going to beat out of his chest. 

“Don’t worry, father,” Edward murmurs gently. “Mama loves you, a lot.” Dimitri looks down at his son and squeezes his hand comfortingly. He’s wearing the same color dark navy blue vest that Dimitri chose for himself. Someone already did Alexandria’s hair into her favorite hairstyle. 

Claude flashes Dimitri a thumbs-up sign from the side, and he doesn’t feel that much better. Dorothea and Hilda shuffle into the pews along with the others, and Dimitri’s heart stops as the doors open to reveal Edelgard walking alongside Glenn, her face covered by her veil. Alexandria grabs his hand excitedly as they slowly walk up to the aisle. He watches, transfixed by her figure.

They come to a stop at the stairs and Edelgard slowly walks up to them as Glenn sits down next to Ingrid, smiling brightly. He offers his arm to her, and she takes him as they kneel in front of Seteth.

Seteth smiles at them both, opening his Book of Sothis. “Family and friends, thank you all for coming today to share in this wonderful occasion. Today we are here together to unite Dimitri and Edelgard in marriage.”

A bunch of raucous cheers, whistles, and claps explode, most likely led by Sylvain and Claude. Dimitri resists the urge to turn around. Edelgard squeezes his hand, smiling underneath her veil.

Seteth begins reciting the basic vows of Sothis when binding two people in marriage. “Do you, Dimitri, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” Dimitri says assuredly. There’s nothing more that he’s ever wanted in his life. 

Seteth smiles and turns to Edelgard, “Do you, Edelgard, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

Seteth announces to everyone, “Dimitri and Edelgard have chosen rings to exchange with each other as a symbol of their unending love. As you place this ring on Edelgard’s finger, please repeat after me. With this ring, I thee wed and pledge you my love, now and forever.”

Dimitri swallows as his father hands him the simple gold bands that Dimitri chose with the blacksmith with Edelgard’s permission. Edelgard offers her hand, and he slides the finger on, repeating after Seteth, “With this ring, I thee wed and pledge you my love, now and forever.”

“Edelgard, as you place this ring on Dimitri’s finger, please repeat after me. With this ring, I thee wed and pledge you my love, now and forever.” Dimitri passes the ring to her as she slips it onto Dimitri’s finger.

“With this ring, I thee wed and pledge you my love, now and forever,” Edelgard repeats calmly as Dimitri sees her eyes through the translucent veil. They drop their hands, standing up together as they face each other.

“By the authority vested in me by the powers to be in Fodlan, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Dimitri raises the veil over her face, revealing the one he’s loved since the day they met. She smiles tearfully and presses her forehead against his. “I love you,” she whispers before he kisses her because he is hers, now and forever. 

_ FIN. _

* * *

**Dimitri/Edelgard**

In the aftermath of the War of Unification, Dimitri alongside Edelgard became the new leaders of Fodlan, ruling as a council with others. Their reforms were widespread and welcome as they brought Fodlan into the future. Their children lived long and happy lives in peace with their parents even as their family grew even larger.

**Claude**

As the former Duke of Riegan and part of the council that led Fodlan, he would eventually retire to Derdriu after a decade. From there, he would vanish over the mountains of Fodlan’s Locket. He never quite disappeared from the history books, coming to visit every so often. 

**Hubert/Ferdinand**

Hubert served as the council’s spymaster, providing information on any ill-fated rebellions. In the fight against Those Who Slithered in the Dark, he proved useful, quashing their influence before it bloomed. Ferdinand served as part of the council, campaigning for equal education and eventually a Fodlan without a caste system. In retirement, they could often be found discussing the merits of tea versus coffee.

**Hilda/Marianne**

Hilda’s dreams of demilitarizing Fodlan’s Locket eventually came to fruition. Now it serves as a base to help those who wish to travel between Almyra and Fodlan. Marianne’s Crest was never revealed, lost to history. Eventually, though, she came into possession of a sword that looked very similar to a Heroes’ Relic, never saying where it came from. 

**Dorothea/Petra**

Dorothea’s orphanage in Enbarr grew, as her model for success was replicated across Fodlan, housing the unfortunate children. They were taught how to read and write, giving a voice to those who never had it. Eventually, she would travel to Brigid with her beloved Petra, who was now Queen of her homeland that stood equal to Fodlan. 

**Linhardt/Caspar**

Both refusing their titles, Linhardt and Caspar traveled across Fodlan and beyond, not without complaints from Linhardt of course. Eventually, when they had gotten their fill of exploring, Linhardt began his crest research, and with the help of others and Hanneman and Manuela, the importance of Crests began to fade. 

**Leonie/Lorenz**

Leonie paid off her debts without the help of her husband. It was well documented that the Countess of Gloucester could be seen working as a mercenary even after they wed. She only slowed down when they began to have children. Lorenz rose to new heights as he brought prosperity and a newfound love of tea to Fodlan.

**Bernadetta/Raphael**

Bernadetta returned to Varley, not as its Countess. Eventually, once the reforms of the others stepped in, she was able to retire her position and traveled to the former Alliance territory with her husband where they eventually opened a successful inn. Raphael impressed the others with a new wing of the inn being created frequently over the years. 

**Ignatz/Maya**

Ignatz and Maya became artists, leading Fodlan into a renaissance for human creativity. Their most popular works were portraying the fight against Nemesis on the Talitean Plains as well as the new age of Fodlan. Their success would inspire a new generation of painters and artisans after them. 

**Cyril/Lysithea**

With the removal of Lysithea’s crests, she lived to an old age with Cyril by her side. Eventually, they would visit the warm deserts of Almyra, if only once in their life together. She revived the Ordelia name, eventually where their name would remain in the history books for the innovation of magic. 

**Mercedes/Dedue/Ashe/Annette/Felix/Sylvain**

No one is ever sure what happened in this group. They all remained close, visiting one another in Faerghus, never quite settling down. After retiring from the Royal Guard, eventually, Ashe and Dedue would open an inn near Fhirdiad where Mercedes settled down to open up her orphanage based on the advice of Dorothea. Annette inherited the title of Baroness of Dominic and would take on the role of teaching at Fhirdiad’s School of Sorcery, teaching a new generation of magic users in Faerghus. Felix stayed near Garreg Mach, serving as Dimitri’s Loyal Shield of Faerghus. Sylvain worked up north in Gautier, eventually finding peace with Sreng. They all remained close, confounding historians in the future as their children shared similar features. 

**Glenn/Ingrid**

Ingrid inherited her father’s title, becoming the legendary Lady of Galatea. She brought her family’s name to new heights as she helped ensure her people’s happiness. Her happiness was secured by her husband who faithfully raised their children with a smile. They would know peace in the end. 


End file.
